“Where does he live?”
“A leetle this side of the village. You'll know the house, well enough. It's a large, square house painted white, with a well-sweep in front.”
Without a word of thanks for the information, Abner Holden turned, and began to walk toward Waverley. Perhaps his object in making these inquiries has been guessed. It happened that he needed a boy, and, for more reasons than one, he thought he should like to have Herbert bound to him. Herbert, as he had noticed, was a stout boy, and he probably could get a good deal of work out of him. Then, again, it would be gratifying to him to have our hero in subjection to him. He could pay him off then, ten times over, for his insolence, as he chose to term it.
“I'll break his proud spirit,” thought Abner Holden. “He'll find he's got a master, if I get hold of him. He don't know me yet, but he will some time.”
Mr. Holden resolved to wait on Captain Ross at once, and conclude arrangements with him to take Herbert before our hero had returned from the mill village. He pictured, with a grim smile, Herbert's dismay when he learned who was to be his future master.
With the help of a handkerchief dipped into a crystal stream at the roadside, Abner Holden succeeded in effacing some of the muddy stains upon his coat and pantaloons, and at length got himself into presentable trim for calling upon a “selectman.”
At length he came in sight of the house which had been described to him as that of Captain Ross. There was a woman at the well-sweep engaged in drawing water.
“Does Captain Ross live here?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir.”
“Is he at home?”