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Wheeler, if that is your name, you can't pull the wool over my eyes. You are a thief, neither more nor less." "How can you misjudge me so, Mr. Pettigrew?" "Because I know something of your past history. It is clear to me now that you were the person that stole John O'Donnell's money." "Indeed, Mr. Pettigrew." "It is useless to protest. How much of it have you left?"
We held our little house on lease; the owner was a mean, saving old man named Pettigrew, who lived in a villa adorned with plaster images of dogs and goats, at Overcastle, and in spite of our specific agreement, he would do no repairs for us at all. He rested secure in my mother's timidity.
Unlike Jefferson Pettigrew, Wheeler was a light sleeper. He had done nothing to induce fatigue, and had no difficulty in keeping awake till half past eleven. Then lighting a candle, he examined his watch, and ascertained the time. "It will be safe enough now," he said to himself. He rose from his bed, and drew on his trousers.
His pay was large, and enabled him to put away a good sum every month, but his hours were long and he was too closely confined for a boy of his age. At the end of three months he showed this in his appearance. His good friend Pettigrew saw it and said one day, "Rodney, you are looking fagged out. You need a change." "Does that mean that you are going to discharge me?" asked Rodney, with a smile.
"My dear sir," said Wheeler effusively, "I wouldn't do it for many persons, but I have taken a fancy to you." "You don't mean so?" said Pettigrew, appearing pleased? "Yes, I do, on my honor." "But I don't see why you should. You are a polished city gentleman and I am an ignorant miner from Montana." Louis Wheeler looked complacent when he was referred to as a polished city gentleman.
Oh, that was a great day in Pointview! that red-runabout day of our history when the pitcher was broken at the fountain and they that looked out of the windows trembled. "Dan Pettigrew was home from Harvard for the holidays, an' he an' Lizzie met at a church party. They held their heads very high, an' seemed to despise each other an' everybody else.
'It may be as well to take Mr. Redworth's arm; you will escape the crush for you, said Lady Dunstane to Diana. 'I don't sup. Yes! go! You must eat, and he is handiest to conduct you. Diana thought of her chaperon and the lateness of the hour. She murmured, to soften her conscience, 'Poor Mrs. Pettigrew! And once more Mr.
"I'm not suggesting your doing it to-day," said Miss Pettigrew. "Nor any other day," I said. "I shouldn't be able to screw myself up to the pitch. I'm not that kind of man at all. What you want is some one more of the Young Lochinvar type, or a buccaneer. They're all dashing men who shrink from nothing. Why not advertise for a buccaneer?"
"You say, there, that Cornelius says its officers are mere tools in the power of men who have put them there; that Gamble's behind Crickwater, Bulger's behind Mattox, and he, Leggett, is behind Pettigrew yes don't interrupt, there isn't time and that Colonel Proudfit got the money to buy stock enough to elect himself president, by persuading his wife to mortgage everything she has got.
Custom, however, got the better of me, and inadvertently I filled my pipe, only noticing this when it was too late to remedy the mistake. Pettigrew thus finished before me; and though I advised him to begin on the garden tobacco without waiting for me, he insisted on smoking half a pipeful of Arcadia, just to keep me company.
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