"Sam! I could not have believed you had such a bad, wicked heart. I
thought you knew me better. I won't make myself so cheap as to explain
all that to you. But I'll ask yon to do one thing for me. When we go
home this evening, if you see my father alone, you tell him what you
saw--and if you've got any shame in you you'll be ashamed of yourself."

He had been irritated by her anger, but he was completely abashed by
the coolness and gentleness which followed her burst of tears. He was
sorely confused and bewildered by her command, but did not dream of
anything but obeying it, and as they walked silently home, he was all
the time wondering what mysterious motive she could have in wishing him
to denounce her to her father. They found Saul Matchin sitting by the
door, smoking a cob-pipe. Maud went in and Sam seated himself beside
the old man.

"How'd you get along at Farnham's?" said Saul.

Sam started, as if "the boss" had read his uneasy conscience. But he
answered in his drawling monotone:

"All right, I guess. That doggoned Scotchman thinks he knows it all;
but it'll take nigh on to a week to do what I could ha' done in a day
or two, if I worked my way."

"Well," said Saul, "that ain't none o' your lookout. Do what Scotchee
tells you, and I'll keep the time on 'em. We kin stand it, ef they
kin," and the old carpenter laughed with the foolish pleasure of a
small mind aware of an advantage. "Ef Art. Farnham wants to keep a
high-steppin' Scotchman to run his flowers, may be he kin afford it. I
ain't his gardeen."