On the other hand, the squire was fond of having his own way, and he had now gone so far that he could not recede without loss of dignity.
“I think,” he answered stiffly, “that I understand my duty as well as a boy of fifteen. I don’t mean to keep you here long, but it is the best arrangement for the present.”
“Of course it is,” said Zeke, well pleased with the humiliation of his enemy.
“Shut up, Zeke!” said his father, observing from the squire’s expression that he did not fancy Zeke’s interference.
“All right, dad,” said Zeke good-naturedly, seeing that things had turned out as he desired.
“Jump in!” said Mr. Tucker to Philip.
Our hero, without a word, obeyed. He was firmly resolved that Squire Pope should not have his way, but he did not choose to make himself ridiculous by an ineffectual resistance which would only have ended in his discomfiture.
Seated between Mr. Tucker and the squire, he was driven rapidly toward the poorhouse.
CHAPTER IX.
THE POORHOUSE.
There was no room for Zeke to ride—that is, there was no seat for him—but he managed to clamber into the back part of the wagon, where he sat, or squatted, rather uncomfortably, but evidently in the best of spirits—if any inference could be drawn from his expression.