“I guess it is,” said the storekeeper, with a snap to his thin lips, and a lively memory of the half-hour wasted over this unprofitable customer, whom, after all, it never would do to offend.
“Well, this boy I know of is smart enough, my gracious, but he ain’t big enough to work hard. What you want to set him at?”
“Oh, little odd jobs,” said the old man, carelessly; “some of ’em in th’ house to help th’ women folks.”
“Oh, if that’s the case,” said Mr. Atkins, who was friendly to Mrs. Peters and Miss Miranda,—“as different from that old Scrooge,” he had said in the privacy of his home, “as light is from darkness,”—“why, I’ll give you his name; it’s Joel Pepper.”
“Oh, that boy.” Old Man Peters’s eager face fell, and the light in the ferret eyes went out. “I d’no’s I want him,” he said slowly.
“Not want one o’ them Pepper children!” exclaimed the storekeeper, in astonishment, as if the greatest blessing the earth could yield had been ignored. “Well, I never!”
“I don’t think I like that Joel,” said Mr. Peters, beginning to work his way to the door.
“Well, I can tell you that Joel Pepper is th’ smartest boy around here for miles and miles,” cried the storekeeper, taking up quick cudgels, “an’ I don’t b’lieve his Ma would let him come to you anyway,” he added with venom. “So, we’ll say no more about it; she’s awful particular where any o’ ’em go,” he added, not caring if his words did lose him, for good and all, the chance of seeing the rich old man darken his door again.
“Hey, what’s that?” squeaked Old Man Peters, this quite deciding him, and suddenly whirling about. “Well, I’m willing to try Joel, only he come to my house once, his Ma sent him on an errant, an’ he was awful sassy.”
“Sassy, was he?” Then Mr. Atkins laughed; he couldn’t help it. “Well, I guess that’s all right; you don’t mind what a shaver as little as him says, I s’pose.”