She thanked him, and thoughtfully tied the money in a corner of her handkerchief.
"Now if his son were home, he would be different. Hank is a rattling, good-natured sort of a fellow. No principle, you know, but not a tiger by any means."
"I'll thank you, sir, to keep a stiff tongue when you're talkin' of Hank Dillson," observed 'Tilda Jane, severely. "He's done me favours, an' you'd better keep your tongue off his father, too. If you're dyin' to pitch into some one, pitch into that selfish ole tub a-readin' that big paper up there. He turned his back on me when I hinted round him for the loan of a dollar or so."
"And I'll thank you to keep a stiff tongue when you speak of that gentleman," said the lad, smartly, "for he's my father."
"Your father!" echoed 'Tilda Jane, in astonishment.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did he once have blue eyes an' curly hair?"
"I believe so. He's a good-looking man yet."
"He's a—" began 'Tilda Jane, hurriedly, then she stopped short. "Law me—I'll never learn to forgive folks before the sun goes down; I'm gettin' wickeder an' wickeder. What's your name, sir? I'll want to send you this money soon's I earn some."
"My name is Datus Waysmith, and my father is the biggest lumber merchant on the Ciscasset River."