'
'Yes, I do, and more too. But the money is yours, not mine. You shall
have it to-morrow.'
'Mine! Where did it come from?'
'From a relative of yours. But he's modest; he don't want to be known.'
'But I _ought_ to know, I thought I had no relatives.'
'Well, you haven't--only this one, and he's rich as mud. He gave you the
five thousand; but this is a last instalment--you won't get another red
cent.'
'I don't feel exactly like taking money in that way.'
'Pshaw, my boy! I tell you it's yours--rightfully and honestly. You
ought to have more; but he's close-fisted, and you must be content with
this.'
'Well, Frank,' said Cragin, 'what do you say to hitching horses with me?
I'll give you two fifths, and put a hundred against your thirty.
'What shall I do?' said Frank to me.
'You'd better accept. It's more than I can allow you.'
'Then it's a trade?' asked Cragin.
'Yes,' said Frank.
'Well, old gentleman, what do _you_ say--will you move the old stool?'
said Cragin, addressing David.
'Yes; I like Frank too well to stay with even his father.'
In the gleeful mood which had taken possession of the old man, the words
slipped from his tongue before he was aware of it. He would have
recalled them on the instant, but it was too late. Cragin caught them,
and exclaimed:
'His father! Well, that explains some riddles.
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