“Then, can’t we make her give it up?” I asked. “If she has done such a wicked thing, it seems as though we ought to accuse her of it, and make her give me all that belongs to me.”
Uncle Naboth rose slowly from the bench, settled his felt hat firmly upon his head, pulled down his checkered vest, and assumed a most determined bearing.
“You wait here,” he said, “an’ I’ll beard the she-tiger in her den, an’ see what can be done.”
Then he gave a great sigh, and turning square around, marched stiffly up the path that led to the house.
CHAPTER III.
MY FORTUNES IMPROVE.
I awaited with as much patience as I could muster the result of the venture. I was proud of Uncle Naboth’s bravery, and hoped he would be successful. Surely the brief interview with my newly acquired relative had caused a great change in my future prospects, for it was not likely that my mother’s brother would desert me in my extremity. I had left the house that was now no longer my home without a single friend to whom I could turn, and behold, here was a champion waiting to espouse my cause! Mr. Perkins was somewhat peculiar in his actions, it is true, but he was my uncle and my dead father’s partner, and already I was beginning to have faith in him.
It was a full half hour before I saw him coming back along the path; but now he no longer strutted with proud determination. Instead, his whole stout little body drooped despondently; his hat was thrust back from his forehead, and upon his deeply wrinkled face stood big drops of perspiration.
“Sam,” said he, standing before me with a rather sheepish air, “I were wrong, an’ I beg your pardon. That woman ain’t no she-tiger. I mis-stated the case. She’s a she-devil!”
The words were laden with disgust and indignation. Uncle Naboth drew out his gorgeous handkerchief and wiped his face with it. Then he dropped upon the bench and pushed his big hands deep into his capacious pockets, with the air of a man crushed and defeated.
I sighed.