Tom Fletcher was determined that he would
question the parson some day, in the presence of others. He prided himself
upon his keenness of observation and shrewdness in detecting a guilty
manner in those whom he suspected of wrong-doing. The first opportunity he
seized when he met the parson at the blacksmith shop, waiting for his
horse to be shod.
"Well, Parson, are ye goin' to sell the farm?" he asked in a sort of
careless manner.
"What farm?" was the reply.
"Oh, the Frenelle place."
"No; it's not for sale."
"Well, is that so? Money's tight these times, an' I thought mebbe ye'd he
glad to get rid of it."
"No. I'm not anxious to do so."
"But, isn't it a heap of money to be tied up in one place? Mebbe ye'd give
us a hint how ye manage to do it. It's as much as us poor farmers kin do
to live, let alone put four thousand in a place which we don't intend to
use!"
Tom tipped a wink to several others in the shop, as much as to say, "Now,
I've cornered him. Watch for the fun." Parson John saw the wink, and drew
himself suddenly up. He realized that the man was drawing him out for some
purpose, and it was as well to check him first as last.
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