"Jack might start again. Mother, Mr.
Gordon here saved my life."
At this moment the groom appeared, and the blushing Tom turned the horse
over to him, and, pretending he had not heard the words of Jennie, lifted
his hat.
"It has come out all right; I bid you good-evening."
Catherwood quickly rallied from the snub of the lady. He slipped his
fingers in his vest-pocket and drew out a bill, which he handed to Tom.
"What's that for?" asked the wondering youth, taking the crumpled paper.
"Aw--that's all right, my deah fellow--you earned it--dooced clevah in
you"--
Tom Gordon compressed the paper into a small wad, and placing it between
his thumb and forefinger, as though it were a marble, shot it against the
eyeglasses of the amazed dude.
"That's my opinion of _you_," he said, turning about and walking off,
before the agitated Mrs. Warmore could thank him.
"I suppose I've done it," he mused, when in the highway and walking toward
Farmer Pitcairn's. "Catherwood never did like me and now he hates me. If
Miss Jennie keeps up her course toward him, he will hate me more than
ever.
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