“What’s up?” thought our hero. “He’s as cold as an iceberg. What have I been doing, I wonder?”
Tom thought, but in vain. He had been unusually quiet for a week past, and could not imagine how he had offended the village magnate.
“I suppose I’ll find out sometime,” he thought. “Meanwhile I won’t trouble myself about it.”
A new surprise awaited our hero. Generally Mr. and Mrs. Middleton were quite deferential to him. Remembering the twenty dollars a week they thought it polite to treat him as well as possible.
Now when he opened the door, and was about to go up-stairs, Mrs. Middleton called out sharply:
“Wipe your feet, will you? Do you think I shall allow a peck of dust to be tracked up-stairs.”
Tom stared at her in amazement.
“What do you stand gaping at?” demanded Corinthia in the same tone. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“You spoke loud enough for me to hear,” said Tom coolly. “Is anything the matter with you?”
“What do you mean?”