“Ah, what a brain the boy has got!” murmured Mamma, with rapturous pride.
“Look a-here,” said Franz, after a moment’s consideration, “I’m satisfied that there ain’t no cops about; but to set yer mind at rest, old un, so that you kin use it ter help git to the bottom of this business, I’ll go and take a look around, and I’ll be back in jest five minutes.” And he made a quick stride toward the door.
“Now, Franzy,—” began Mamma, coaxingly.
But he waved her back, saying: “Shut up, old woman; I’m runnin’ this,” and went swiftly out.
When the sound of his retreating footsteps was lost to their ears, Papa and Mamma drew close together, and looked into each others’ faces—he anxiously, she with a leer of shrewd significance.
“Old man,” she said, impressively, “that boy’ll be the makin’ of us—if we don’t let him git us down.”
“Eh! what?”
“He’s got your cunnin’ an’ mine together, and he’s got all the grit you lack.”
“Well,” impatiently.
“But he’ll want to run us. An’ when he knows all we know, he’d put his foot on us if we git in his way.”