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He had been well educated, and in Arch he had an apt scholar. Every spare moment of the boy's life was absorbed in his books. By-and-bye Sharp learned the whole history of the wrongs, inflicted on Arch's parents by old Mr. Trevlyn. He snapped at the story as a dog snaps at a bone. But he was, cautious and patient, and it was a long time before he showed himself to Arch in his true character.
In fact, not a half-dozen persons in the city were aware of the fact that there existed any tie of relationship between John Trevlyn, the miser, and Archer Trevlyn, the head clerk of Belgrade and Company. Arch's good fortune did not change him a particle. He gave less time to business, it is true, but he spent it in hard study.
I tried once to, and she wouldn't take it." Miss Schump hooked a highly diffident hand into Mr. Sensenbrenner's sharply jutted elbow. "You two go on and talk together. I've chewed Arch's right ear off already." "It's a grand evenin' ain't it, Mr. Sensenbrenner?" At that from Miss Schump, Miss Kinealy executed a very soprano squeal that petered out in a titter of remonstrances.
They were approaching the lane that led to Steve's house now, and beyond the big twin houses were visible. "Yo' Uncle Arch's been here a good deal, an' he's tuk a powerful fancy to Mavis an' he's goin' to send her to the same college school in town whar you're goin'. Marjorie and Gray is a-goin' thar too, I reckon." Jason's heart beat fast at these words.
Arch's way led past a horticultural store, and his eye wandered longingly over the display of flowers in the window. He must have just one wee white rose, because, only the Sabbath before, while he sat at his mother's feet, she had wept in telling him about the sweet roses that used to grow under the window of the little country cottage where her happy youth had been spent.
The amazed and amused geologist put his hand on Arch's shoulder. "Never mind," he said, and with a significant wink he pulled a barometer out of his pocket and carefully noted the altitude. "We'll manage it later."
"About the same as usual," said the boy, "Grandpap's poorly. The war's over just now folks 'r' busy makin' money. Uncle Arch's still takin' up options. The railroad's comin' up the river" the lad's face darkened "an' land's sellin' fer three times as much as you sold me out fer." Steve's face darkened too, but he was silent. "Found out yit who killed yo' daddy?" Jason's answer was short.
Only a few days before the colonel started for the mountains, Babe Honeycutt had broken the truce by shooting Shade Hawn, but as Shade was going to get well, Arch's oily tongue had licked the wound to the pride of every Honeycutt except Shade, and he calculated that the latter would be so long in bed that his interference would never count. But things were going wrong.
A kind city missionary prayed over the remains, and the hearse was followed to Potter's Field only by Mat and Arch ragged and tattered, but sincere mourners. When they came back Mat took Arch's hand and led him into the wretched den she called home. "You shall stay here, Arch, with Grandma Rugg and me. She said you might if you'd be a good boy, and not plague the cat.
It was the boy's talk that had halted the old man, and to Arch's amazement the colonel's sense of fairness seemed to have been touched and his enthusiasm seemed to have waned a little. That morning, too, Arch had heard that Shade Hawn was getting well a little too fast, and he was on his way to see about it.
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