“Yes, yes, and I think I could get along. We are not doing—well, you might say, we—we—are doing—not a thing at mill. Baggs has gone out West to look after some business.”
Boardman looked very despondent.
“Squire, look here.”
The keeper here dropped his voice, though there was no occasion for it, as the only being that heard him was a musk–rat stealing along in the shadow of the wall of a ditch near by. In low, confidential tones, the keeper remarked,—
“I think that—I don’t want to hurt your feelin’s, but I must say it—I think Baggs will bear a good deal of watchin’. Did you know the men at the station had been lettin’ him have their money?”
“Why, no.”
“But they have. He said he could give ’em more per cent than the bank would, and so a number of ’em, when paid off, took their cash to Baggs. He’s a sly old crittur. One time, he purtended he wasn’t particular ’bout havin’ any more, and one of ’em as good as begged him to take his money, and Baggs made a good deal of the fact that he calc’lated he was the ‘poor man’s friend,’ and on the whole, though he didn’t want it, yet he would ‘’commodate’ him; and that’s the last the feller has seen of it.”
“Doesn’t Baggs pay interest?”
“Oh, it was in the agreement that the int’rest should stay and ‘’cumulate,’ he called it. He’s a knowin’ one, that Baggs! Squire, I wouldn’t resk too much.”
Boardman did not enjoy such advice, but he was accustomed to it, as Aunt Lydia administered frequent doses. There was always a dose the first thing in the morning, like the sulphur and molasses some unfortunate children are obliged to take; and other administrations during the day, might be expected.