SQUIRE PAGET'S VISIT.
It was not a very long walk from Squire Paget's elegant mansion on the hill
to the humble cottage occupied by Mrs. Nelson and Ralph, but the squire
made it longer by taking numerous back roads. It was easy to imagine that
he wished to be seen by no outsider in making his proposed visit.
It was nearly eight o'clock when he came within sight of the cottage. He
saw that the lamp was lit in the sitting-room, and near it sat the widow,
reading the latest copy of the county weekly newspaper. Ralph was nowhere
in sight.
"The boy must be upstairs," thought the squire. "Most likely he is dressing
to go out for the evening," he went on, thinking of his own son's ways.
Percy rarely spent an evening at home.
The squire entered the garden by a side gate, and, hurrying to the front
door, knocked sharply.
The loud summons startled Mrs. Nelson, and made her break off abruptly in
her reading. With the lamp in her hand, she opened the door to see who her
late visitor was.
"Good-evening, Mrs. Nelson," said the squire, stiffly.
"Why, good-evening, squire," she returned, in great surprise.
Never before had the great man condescended to visit her humble abode.
"I called on a little matter of business," he added, rather awkwardly, for
he had expected an invitation to enter.
"Indeed! Won't you come in, then?"
"I will."
The squire stepped in, and after closing the door the widow led the way
into the parlor. She placed the lamp down, and offered the squire the
easiest chair in the room. He threw himself into it with a loud ahem, and
dropped his silk hat on a stand near by.
"You came on a little matter of business, you say?" she began,
hesitatingly, as he remained silent for a minute.
"Yes, I did." He cleared his throat again. "Mrs. Nelson, where is your son
Ralph?"
"He has gone to the store on an errand for me. He will be back shortly."
"Mrs. Nelson, do you know that that boy is going to get both himself and
you into a good deal of trouble?" went on the great man, pompously.
"Oh, I hope not, squire," she cried, in alarm.
"If he keeps on, he will end in State prison!"
"Why, what has he done now?"
"I do not refer to any new action on his part. I refer to this post office
affair."
Mrs. Nelson breathed easier. For the moment she had feared some new
difficulty between Ralph and Percy.
"I thought that matter had passed," she said.
"Passed! I rather imagine not, madam!
"I mean so far as my son is concerned. They had him up for examination, and
he was honorably discharged."
"That committee of post office officials didn't know its business," growled
Squire Paget, wrathfully. "It was worse than a lot of old hens getting
together."
"That may be your opinion, squire. It is not the opinion of all the folks,
however."
"Madam, your son had something to do with that robbery!" ejaculated the
great man, springing to his feet. "He cannot fool me, no matter how much he
fools the other Westville people."
"Ralph had absolutely nothing to do with it!" returned the widow, warmly.
"You might as well say your own son was implicated."
"Nonsense! Does Ralph deny that he was seen on the streets of Westville
that night?"
"He went to Dr. Foley's for me. I was sick."
"Was he not seen right in front of the post office directly after the
explosion?"
"He had to pass the post office to get to Dr. Foley's."
"Of course," sneered Squire Paget. "But if he was innocent, why did he not
remain in the crowd instead of leaving in such a hurry inside of a minute
or two?"
"He was afraid I might get worse. Had I not been sick, he would have
remained, without a doubt."
"You don't look very sick now, madam," with another sneer.
"No, thanks to the plaster and the medicine Dr. Foley gave Ralph, I have
quite recovered again."
"Humph!" sniffed the great man, and drew up his lips.
"You do not believe that I was sick, do you?"
"It was a very accommodating sickness, to my mind."
"Why, what do you mean, squire?"
"It gave your son a good excuse to be abroad at that time of the night when
all honest folks are in bed."
"Squire, your words are nothing less than insult!" cried Mrs. Nelson, stung
deeply by his insinuation.
"I am only dealing in facts, madam. I called here to-night to help you keep
clear from trouble."
"You are not helping me now," she replied, cuttingly.
At that moment a merry whistle was heard outside, and a light step ascended
the back stoop.
"There is Ralph; I will let him in," said Mrs. Nelson, and she left the
parlor.
"Squire Paget is here," she said to the boy as he entered the kitchen and
deposited a basketful of groceries on the table.
"Squire Paget! What does he want?"
"Come in and see," rejoined Mrs. Nelson, and she led the way into the best
room.
"Good-evening, sir," said Ralph, respectfully, but with no degree of
warmth.
"We have been waiting for you, young man," said the squire, without
returning the salutation.
"What is it you want of me?"
"He came about that post office affair," put in Mrs. Nelson. "He declares
that you are one of the guilty parties."
Instantly Ralph's eyes flashed dangerously. He felt under no obligations to
the squire, rich as he was, to swallow any insult.
"So you think I am guilty?" he said, as calmly as he could.
"Yes, I do," returned the great man, bluntly.
"What makes you think so?"
"Because you were around the post office," said Mrs. Nelson. "He even
insinuates that my sickness was not real, but was put on so that you might
have an excuse for being out at that time of night."
Again Ralph's eyes flashed. It was bad enough to have insults heaped upon
his own head, but when they touched his mother----
"Squire Paget, you are no gentleman!" he burst out. "You haven't the least
spark of a gentleman in your whole composition!"
"Wha--what----" stammered the village dignitary.
"Oh, Ralph----" began his mother.
"Hush, mother, I will handle him as he deserves. Let me alone."
"You young rascal! What do you mean?" burst out the squire, in a rage.
"I mean just what I say. You may be rich and influential, but you can't
come here and insult my mother, understand that!"
"Why--why, you young vagabond----" spluttered the squire.
For the moment he could not find words to express himself.
"I am no vagabond, Squire Paget, not half as much a one as your son, who
drinks, smokes cigarettes, and keeps company with all sorts of questionable
village sports."
"Stop! stop!" roared the great man. "How dare you speak to me in this
fashion?"
"How dare you insult my mother? If I had an outside witness, I would
prosecute you for libel."
The squire winced. This was an attack he had never once dreamed of. He had
thought to bulldoze the widow and her son, but he was getting decidedly the
worse of the encounter.
"I know what I am talking about," he began, lamely, but Ralph cut him
short.
"So do I know what I am talking about, Squire Paget. You are down on us for
some reason; I have not yet found out what, but I will some day; and you
are doing your best to make endless trouble for us. But I am not going to
stand it. We are poor, but we have our rights as well as the rich."
"You rascal! I'll----"
"I want you to stop calling me a rascal and a vagabond. I might as well
call you a wooden-head, a shyster lawyer, and a lot more."
"Oh, Ralph!" pleaded Mrs. Nelson.
"No, mother, he shall not come here to worry and insult you. I will give
him fair warning now. If he does it again I'll pitch him out of the house."
"You--you," spluttered the squire.
He was so mad he could get no further.
"There is the front door," went on the boy, walking forward and opening it.
"The best thing you can do is to get on the other side of it just as quick
as you can."
The squire was livid. He wanted to say something awful, something that
would crush the fearless lad before him--but the words would not come. He
caught up his silk hat and waved it fiercely in the face of Ralph and his
mother.
"You'll rue this, both of you! Mark my words!" he fairly hissed, and the
next moment he had disappeared into the darkness of the night.