Mr. Hunt, the man they wished to see, had left his shop before they reached it, and was sitting in an open room at the back of his house eating his dinner. His red flannel shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, showing his coarse, sinewy arms; and his hair was all in a tangle; but the moment Mr. Curtis saw him, he stepped forward, and shook hands as cordially as if they had been acquainted for years.
"I suppose you want your horse shod, Squire?" the man asked, looking well pleased at the cordial greeting. "I'll leave my dinner and go right to the shop with you."
"No, indeed. Sit down; and if your wife will allow me, I'll do my business here. I see you know me."
"Yes, sir, I've seen you at church; and I'm thankful that a man in your station has a heart to go there."
"And I listened to you teaching your Sabbath School class," added Mr. Curtis, laughing. "After that we couldn't be strangers long. You remember your text, 'If ye love me keep my commandments.' But now to business! I'm going to build a house and barn; and my men tell me you're the one to mend all my tools, shoe my horses, a kind of general Jack at all trades. I want to engage you to do all my business, and send me your bill the first day in every month. Is that satisfactory?"
"Yes, sir; and I thank you, too. As you're a church-going man I'll make free to tell you, Squire, you've taken a load off my mind. I've got a little girl sick these eighteen months; and I've only been waiting for the means to send her to a great doctor in the city. Now your promise makes my way clear."
"I'm glad you told me, Mr. Hunt. Mrs. Curtis will call and see your wife. I dare say between them they will contrive some plan to restore the child, with God's blessing. Come, Bertie, we will go."
Mr. Hunt and his wife followed to the gate, very much amused at the sight of the donkey and his carriage.
The next morning, Mr. Curtis asked his wife,—