“Pshaw! He can’t hurt you—not unless you took his physic—no other way. I asked if you liked him, because—because some people thought you did, and I said you didn’t—I knew you didn’t. I say, I want to ask you something. I wish you wouldn’t let him come to see you.”
“Why?”
“Why, because he is not a man you ought to associate with—he is not a gentleman. He’s a sneak, and his father’s a thief. He stole our place—just stole it—besides everything else he’s stolen.”
“Why, you say we—my father had something to do with that,” said Ruth, quietly.
“What! You! Your father?—I said he stole!” He reined up his horse, in his amazement.
“In your suit or bill, or whatever you call it.” Ruth felt that it was cruel in her to strike him such a blow, yet she enjoyed it.
“I never did—we never did—you are mistaken,” stammered the boy. “Why, I wouldn’t have done it for the whole of Red Rock—no more would Steve. Let me explain. I know all about it.”
Ruth looked acquiescent, and as they walked their horses along under the trees the boy tried to explain the matter. He was not very lucid, for he was often confused; but he made clear the desire they had had to keep Major Welch out of the matter, and the sincerity of their motive in giving him the notice before he should buy, and the anxiety they had had and the care they had taken to make it clear in their suit that no charge of personal knowledge by him was intended. He also informed Ruth of Steve’s action in the matter, and of the episode in the office that night when the bill was signed, or, at least, of as much of it as he had heard.
“But why did he do that?” asked Ruth.