"Isn't it strange that he never says anything to you about politics, especially such as we are having now?" asked the son.
"I don't see him very often; he is at Bowling Green half the time. Besides, he and I never agreed on politics. By the great George Washington, there he is now!" exclaimed Noah Lyon, springing up from his seat on the bench.
Titus Lyon was seated with his wife in a stylish buggy. He stopped his horse on the bridge when he came opposite to his brother, and passing the reins to Mrs. Lyon he descended to the planks. His wife drove on, and stopped at the front door of the mansion. Frank the coachman ran with all his might from the stable to take charge of the team, and the lady went into the house.
"How do you do, Titus?" said Noah, extending his hand to his brother.
"I think it is about time for me to have some talk with you, Noah," replied Titus, ignoring the offered hand, and bestowing a frowning look upon Deck. "Send that boy away."
"Dexter knows all about my affairs, and I don't have many secrets from him," replied Noah very mildly, and somewhat nettled to have his son treated in that rude manner.
"I came over here on purpose to talk with you; and what I have to say is between you and me—for the present. If you don't wish to talk with me on these terms, that's the end on't," added Titus, rising from the seat he had taken.
"I will go with Artie, father," interposed Deck, who did not wish to prevent an interview between the brothers, though he thought his uncle behaved like a Hottentot.
"Very well, Dexter; but you needn't go if you don't want to," said his father, who evidently did not believe that the proposed interview with Titus would be conducted on a peace basis.
"I think I will go," added Deck, who hailed Artie from the bridge, and then hastened to a plank where he could get into the boat.