"Yes," said her father, regarding her fixedly, "and you know now why I
didn't want anything said about it last night--nor even now."
"And 'Lige had just given it to you! Wasn't it lucky?"
"He HADN'T just given it to me!" said her father with another unexpected
outburst. "God Amighty! ain't I tellin' you all the time it was an old
matter! But you jabber, jabber all the time and don't listen! Where's
John Milton?" It had occurred to him that the boy might have read the
paper--as his sister had--while it lay unheeded on the counter.
"In the store,--you know. You said he wasn't to hear anything of this,
but I'll call him," said Mrs. Harkutt, rising eagerly.
"Never mind," returned her husband, stopping her reflectively, "best
leave it as it is; if it's necessary I'll tell him. But don't any of you
say anything, do you hear?"
Nevertheless a few hours later, when the store was momentarily free of
loungers, and Harkutt had relieved his son of his monotonous charge, he
made a pretense, while abstractedly listening to an account of the boy's
stewardship, to look through a drawer as if in search of some missing
article.
"You didn't see anything of a paper I left somewhere about here
yesterday?" he asked carelessly.
"The one you picked up when you came in last night?" said the boy with
discomposing directness.
Harkutt flushed slightly and drew his breath between his set teeth.
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