“Huh!” grunted Ham.
“What made that crazy Paul say he committed suicide, and that if he hadn’t we’d have been paupers?”
“Huh!” said Ham again.
“And why should such a foolish remark,” I added, “have frightened mother? For that is what brought about her fainting fit, I verily believe.”
“Huh!” said the coachman for a third time, and then I got mad.
“Stop that, Ham!” I cried. “Don’t you go about trying to mystify me. I want to know what they meant. I intend to find out what they meant. If you have any suspicion, tell it out.”
“Well, Master Clint,” he said gravely, “I don’t blame you for being angry.”
“Or being puzzled, either?” I put in.
“No, sir; nor for being puzzled. And I’m some puzzled myself. But I reckon Paul Downes was jest repeatin’ what he’d heard his father say.”
“That my poor father had to jump overboard from his dory, to save himself from trouble and mother and I from poverty? Why, it’s preposterous!” I cried.