“To tell ye the truth, I didna pay muckle attention to the beastie, but I think it was brown coloured, wi’ a white patch on its e’e. Oh, ay! and it was lame, for when he went aff I could see it hobblin’ on its fore legs as it galloped doon the road.”
“All right!” said Phil. “If you send Betsy up to put the room in order, everything will be O.K.”
“I’m right sorry I wasna more parteecular, Mr. Ralston, but I didna think for a minute except that you would be anxious for your spurs. A letter like that would deceive the very Lord himsel’.”
“Don’t you worry now! I paid only a dollar and a half for the spurs, and I have had that much wear out of them, so they don’t owe me anything.”
At the same time, Phil himself worried considerably over the matter, for closer inspection betrayed the fact that his little box of private papers and letters had been burst open and examined; also that his leather letter-case––in fact everything likely to contain documents of any kind––had been scrutinised.
As he bathed and dressed himself, he still worried, 105 until it occured to him that this might be some of Brenchfield’s doings. He wondered, and then he laughed to himself at the chances the would-be thief had taken to get––nothing.
Once more Phil lost patience with himself, as he thought of his foolishness in getting rid of that confession of Brenchfield’s; and yet, in destroying it he had merely acted up to the feeling and good intentions he had had at the time.
He took a turn outside. At the top of the hill, at the corner, little Smiler, with a cleaner face than usual, ran out from the end of a house and stood up in front of Phil.
“Hullo kiddie! What’s the good word?”
Smiler just grinned.