“Glad—to see ye,—Jothum. How—dy’e—do?” ejaculated Boardman, still tugging away.
“Well as usual, thank ye. Got some tough customers there?”
The world lost that last precious thought. Here a provoking bean–pole that he had grasped, suddenly broke, and in a great, fat heap, over went Boardman, cutting Chauncy Aldrich’s figure when in the boat–race he “caught a crab.”
“Hurt—ye?” cried the keeper, rushing forward and offering his assistance.
“Oh—no!” said Boardman laughing, and rolling over as easily as Miss P. Green’s butter firkin, on the day of the fatal boat–race. “The pesky pole got the better of me.”
“Let me help you,” said the keeper, his vigorous muscle quickly hoisting into an upright attitude this “fallen merchant,” as Chauncy would have called him.
“There!” puffed Boardman, resolutely resuming work, and tugging at the stub of the broken pole. “Now I’m ready for business, if I can help you.”
“Hope he has done nothing out of the way. His folks would feel dreadful bad.”
“Oh, no—no! jest the opposite. Fact is, I want him at the station.”
Boardman looked up, and wiped his broad, benevolent face.
“You don’t say! I thought Walter couldn’t have been up to anything out of the way, for he is as well meanin’ a boy as you often see. And you want him at the station? Indeed!”
“You see, Squire”—a title the people gave Boardman when they wished to be specially attentive, and it was always acceptable to Boardman—“you see, Silas Fay, one of my men, is not very well; but I want to hold on to him as he is a powerful feller, and a good boatman. I thought if Silas took a rest, a month say, he would be able to come back and pull through the winter. I thought for that month, I might get your Walter.”
“He has a good deal of strength for one of his years, and every day he will be a–gainin’. Jest look at him! I have watched him a good deal. He is a good oarsman too. They say he pulled fustrate at the race. Then I thought he might like the money, and also that you might spare him, as work at the saw–mill is slack, and I knew you didn’t have to be there so much, and could be more at the store. Then that colored boy is with you, isn’t he?”
“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.”