“I don’t care anything about the scrape, sir; only I’m afraid the squire will bother my mother when I’m gone,” said Thomas, with some diffidence.
“If he does, he’ll settle the matter with Jack Barney,” replied the captain, decidedly.
“My father may never come back, you know, and if he does he will be a beggar. He owes the squire a note, which will be due in June.”
“I’ll pay it myself!” roared Captain Barney. “Go and fight for your country, Tom, like a man. I’ll call and see your mother once a week, or every day in the week, if you say so. She shall not want for any thing as long as I have a shot in the locker.”
“Thank you, Captain Barney; thank you, sir.”
“I’ll take care of your mother, my lad, and I’ll take care of the squire. He shall not foreclose that mortgage, Tom. Don’t bother your head about any of those things. You’re a good boy, Tom, and I’ll keep every thing all right at home.”
“Thank you, sir,” repeated the soldier boy, as Captain Barney started his horse again.
The captain was a retired shipmaster, of ample means, and Tom knew that he was not only able, but willing, to do all he had promised. His heart was lighter; a load had been removed from his mind.