Israel Hand was tired and hot from his walk up the hill. He was vexed,
too, at the prospect of a disagreeable interview with Mrs. Carter, who
would not understand business matters. The seat beneath the elm was
a most inviting place. From it he could see the whole farm which he
meant presently to annex to his own broad acres. He was on the point
of seating himself when he heard Will's yell. He had a vague consciousness
that the boys did not love him, to say the least of it. He concluded
they were now making game of him. Why shouldn't he sit down? If it was
their seat now, it would soon be his, anyway.
"Impudent young scoundrels!" he muttered, and sat down firmly.
As the boys saw him crash through, and disappear, all but his head
and heels, in a great splash of leaves and blossoms and muddy water,
Ted fairly shrieked with uncontrollable mirth. But as for Will, he
was too angry to see the fun of the situation.
"There," he exclaimed, bitterly, with a ring in his voice that checked
Ted's laughter on the instant, "your tomfoolery has fixed us at last.
Out we'll go next spring, as sure as you want a licking. Hand'll
foreclose now, for sure; and I can't say I'll blame him. No use me
trying to stave him off now!"
Ted hung his head, feeling miserable enough, and casting about vainly
for an excuse.
"But I never--"
"O, don't wriggle, now," retorted Will, sternly. "You know you saw him
in time to warn him. You _wanted_ to get him into it. You just come along
with me, and apologize.
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