After the place was closed he strolled on ahead of the Major and tucked the carpet-bag under the seat of the gig, making no reply to Mr. Tayloe's impatient queries.
"Have you any other orders for me to-night, Major?" he asked, looming up tall and dark in the twilight when his employer was in his seat.
"Nothing more, thank you, Grigsby," said the Major's lively, hearty voice. His good humor was thoroughly restored by the excitement of the adventure. "We may well be satisfied with our evening's work. And, I say, Grigsby, if there's anything any of us can do for the little girl, you know how gladly we would do it. Emily will be down in the morning to see her."
"Thank you, sir."
The reply came back as he was moving toward his horse, and was hardly audible.
"An uncivil cur!" commented Mr. Tayloe, "I wonder that you keep him."
"I might go further and fare a million times worse. It's natural he should be sore and surly just now. If any man had said one-tenth of one of my girls that I said of that bright little daughter of his I'd be as savage as a bear."
"I submit that there is some difference between your daughters and his," observed Mr. Tayloe, dryly. "But what have you found?"
"For one thing, your watch and chain."
The schoolmaster heard the story to the end without interrupting the narrator. Then he sneered openly.