“Well,” said Hughie, reddening at the sarcasm, “I will not do much, but the big boys will just carry him out.”
“And who will be daring to do that, Hughie?”
“Well, Murdie, and Bob Fraser, and Curly Ross, and Don, and—and Thomas, there,” added Hughie, fearing to hurt Thomas' feelings by leaving him out.
“Ay,” said the old man, shutting his lips tight on his pipestem and puffing with a smacking noise, “let me catch Thomas at that!”
“And I would help, too,” said Hughie, valiantly, fearing he had exposed his friend, and wishing to share his danger.
“Well, your father would be seeing to that,” said the old man, with great satisfaction, feeling that Hughie's discipline might be safely left in the minister's hands.
There was a pause of a few moments, and then a quiet voice inquired gently, “He will be a very big man, Hughie, I suppose.”
“Oh, just ordinary,” said Hughie, innocently, turning to Mrs. Finch.
“Oh, then, they will not be requiring you and Thomas, I am thinking, to carry him out.” At which Hughie and Billy Jack and Jessac laughed aloud, but Thomas and his father only looked stolidly into the fire.
“Come, Thomas,” said his mother, “take your fiddle a bit. Hughie will like a tune.” There was no need of any further discussing the new master.