“I say, you haven’t treated me right,” persisted Nick, who had no particular respect nor veneration for the squire, and was not to be deterred from speaking as he felt. “I offered you two-fifty, and you said I should have it, and you got me to call at your house to come here for it.”
“I cannot sacrifice the property of my ward,” said Squire Pope. “I must ascertain how much the violin is worth.”
“A bargain is a bargain, every time!” said Nick, irritated.
“I will let you have it as cheap as anybody,” said the squire, who thought it possible that Nick might be the only one who desired to purchase it. “That ought to satisfy you. Philip, go and bring me the violin, and I will carry it home and dispose of it to the best advantage.”
“You must excuse me, Squire Pope. I shall not let it leave my possession.” Just then Squire Pope espied Mr. Dunbar returning from the village, and hailed him as a probable ally. He laid the matter before him, and requested him to compel Philip to get the violin.
“You must excuse me, squire,” said Mr. Dunbar coldly. “Philip is my guest, and he shall be protected in his rights as long as he remains here.”
Without a word, Squire Pope walked off, in angry discomfiture, in one direction, while Nick, equally dissatisfied, walked off in another.
“They don’t seem happy!” said Frank slyly.
“I wish I knew where it was going to end,” returned Philip gravely.
“It seems to me,” said Frank, “the squire is making a great fuss about a fiddle, for a man of his dignity.”