Squire Pope chuckled, if, indeed, such a dignified man can be said to chuckle.
“What did he say?” he condescended to inquire.
“That he wouldn’t stay.”
“He will have to,” responded Squire Pope complacently. “Mr. Tucker will see to that.”
“Probably Mr. Tucker will wake up some fine morning and find Phil’s room empty,” said Frank quietly.
“I’ll take the risk of it,” returned the squire serenely. “But there’s a matter I want to speak to you about. You’ve got Philip’s fiddle in your possession.”
“Suppose I have.”
“I wish you to bring it round to my house in the morning, and I’ll give you something for your trouble.”
“You must excuse me, Squire Pope. If it were your property, I would bring it to you and charge nothing for my trouble.”
“Young man,” said the squire sternly. “I am Philip’s legal guardian, and I have a right to receive his violin. You will get into trouble if you resist my authority.”