“I don’t see why,” answered Henry Burns. “That’s a pretty high-handed proceeding, to come aboard here and smash into our cabin.”
“Well, perhaps he was worried about that pin,” said Harvey. “Some persons do lose their heads just that way.”
“Yes, but he isn’t one of the kind that lose their heads,” said Henry Burns. “And for my part, I can’t recall for the life of me ever seeing him wear any such kind of a pin.”
CHAPTER XV.
MR. CARLETON GOES AWAY
Squire Brackett, having received sufficient encouragement from Mr. Carleton to warrant action on his part, hitched up his horse one afternoon and drove around the road back of the cove, turning off at length at the pasture lane that led in to Billy Cook’s farmhouse. Billy, barefoot, as usual, was busy hoeing in a small garden patch at a little distance from the house.
“How d’ye do, Billy,” said the squire, sauntering out, with his hands tucked under his coat-tails.
“Afternoon, squire,” responded Billy; and added, to himself, “Wonder what he’s up to.”
“Quite a stranger, squire,” said he. “What brings you way ’round here?”
“Oh, nothing,” replied Squire Brackett, seating himself on the handle of the wheelbarrow that was loaded with garden-truck. “I was driving by and thought I’d just drop in and say good day.”
“Humph! guess not,” thought Billy to himself. He knew the squire was not in the habit of making social visits.