“Honor bright?” drawls Franz, looking up at her sleepily, and suppressing a yawn.
“Honor bright, my boy.”
“Then,” and he rises and stretches out his arms, “we’d better keep her.”
Mamma favors him with a nod and a grin of approval, and then goes over to where Papa has halted and stands eyeing the whisperers.
The household belongings here are, as we have said, somewhat more respectable and extensive than those of the former nests occupied by these birds of passage. There were several chairs; a quantity of crockery and cooking utensils; some decent curtains at the windows; and a couch, somewhat the worse for wear and not remarkable for cleanliness, in this room.
Toward this couch Franz moves with a shuffling gait, and flinging himself heavily down upon it, he settles himself to enjoy a quiet nap, paying no heed to Papa and Mamma, who, standing near together, are watching him furtively. It is some time before Franz becomes lost in dreamland. He fidgets and mumbles for so many minutes that Mamma becomes impatient. But he is quiet at last.
And then the two old plotters, withdrawing themselves to the remotest corner of the room, enter into a conversation or discussion, which, judging from their rapid gesticulations, their facial expression, and the occasional sharp hiss, which is all that could have been heard by the occupant of the couch were he ever so broad awake, must be a question of considerable importance, and one that admits of two opinions.
For more than an hour this warm discussion continues. Then it seems to have reached an amicable adjustment, for they both wear a look of relief, and conversation flags. Presently Mamma turns her face toward the couch.
“I wonder ef he is asleep,” she whispers. “Somehow, that boy bothers me.”
“There’s nothin’ ails him,” replies the old man, in the same guarded whisper, “only what he come honestly by. He’s lookin’ out fer number one, same as we are; an’ he won’t trust all his secrets to nobody’s keepin’, no more’n we won’t. He’s our own boy—only he’s a leetle too sharp fer my likin’. Hows’ever, he’s a lad to be proud of, an’ it won’t do to fall out with him.”