“And in my opinion, too,” quoth the judge. “Now, of course this matter will have to be done when the court meets next week, Mr. Tarr; but I’ll come up and see the youth tonight, and I think that between us we can make him see that this is the place for him to stay, and that there is to be no running away from it,” and the judge shut his thin lips together very grimly.
“That’s it, square; thank ’ee,” said the old man, shambling out of the house. “Dretful weather we been havin’, ain’t it?”
Then he climbed into his wagon and drove back toward home, chuckling as he went.
“I reckon I’ve put a spoke in his wheel,” he muttered, referring to his nephew.
As he pursued his homeward way, however, thoughts of the sailor with whom he had so recently conversed, and of that conversation itself, filled his mind.
“I don’t persume thet ther’s anythin’ in it,” he muttered, thoughtfully stroking the wisp of beard on his pointed chin. “Horace Tarr never had no luck no-how, an’ I don’t see how he’d come ter know anythin’ erbout this ’ere treasure. P’r’aps that sailor was jest a yarnin’ ter me.”
Still, the old man could not drive the thought out of his mind.
“Fabulously rich!” he repeated. “That’s what he heard Horace say. This ’ere mate of the Silver Swan was a chum er Horace’s, like ’nough, an’ I s’pose if ther’ is anythin’ in it, he’ll jes’ try ter git it himself. An’ then—er—Brandon’ll never see a cent of it.
“It really is my duty ter look aout fur th’ boy’s int’rest,” continued the old hypocrite. “’F I’m goin’ ter be his guardeen, I’d orter know what’s goin’ on; an’ this may mean money fur—fur Brandon.”
He wiped his wrinkled brow with a soiled handkerchief, the reins lying idly on his knee the while. Somehow, despite the chilliness of the day, the perspiration stood in great drops upon his forehead.