"It will take a brighter genius than he is to fool me," Bunting would usually reply to these words of caution.
The First of April came round again. Thomas Bunting was wide awake. He expected to hear from the doctor, who, he was certain, would never forgive him. Sure enough, with the day, came a letter from New York.
"You don't fool me!" said Bunting, as he glanced at the postmark. He had heard that the doctor was in, or somewhere near, the city.
"Ha! ha!" he laughed, as he read—
"If Mr. Thomas Bunting will call on Messrs. Wilde & Lyon, Pearl Street, New York, he may hear of something to his advantage."
"Ha! ha! That's capital! The doctor is a wag. Ha! ha!"
Of course, Bunting was too wide awake for this trap. Catch him trudging to New York on a fool's errand!
"Does he think I haven't cut my eye-teeth?" he said to himself exultingly, as he read over the letter. "Doctor Grimes don't know this child—he don't."
And yet, the idea that something might be lost by not heeding the letter, came stealing in upon him, and checking in a small degree the delight he felt at being too smart for the doctor. But this thought was instantly pushed aside. Of course, Bunting was not so "green," to use one of his favourite words, as to go on a fool's errand to New York.
Five or six months afterward, Bunting, while in the city on business, happened to meet Doctor Grimes.