tentative advances had been made to him, and Mr. Euston had presented him to a few of the people in his flock; but beyond the point of mere politeness he had made no response, mainly from indifference, but to a degree because of a suspicion that his connection with Mr. Harum would not, to say the least, enhance his position in the minds of certain of the people of Homeville.  As has been intimated, it seemed at the outset of his career in the village as if there had been a combination of circumstance and effort to put him on his guard, and, indeed, rather to prejudice him against his employer; and Mr. Harum, as it now appeared to our friend, had on one or two occasions laid himself open to misjudgment, if no more.  No allusion had ever been made to the episode of the counterfeit money by either his employer or himself, and it was not till months afterward that the subject was brought up by Mr. Richard Larrabee, who sauntered into the bank one morning.  Finding no one there but John, he leaned over the counter on his elbows, and, twisting one leg about the other in a restful attitude, proceeded to open up a conversation upon various topics of interest to his mind.  Dick was Mr. Harum’s confidential henchman and factotum, although not regularly so employed.  His chief object in life was apparently to get as much amusement as possible out of that experience, and he was quite unhampered by over-nice notions of delicacy or bashfulness.  But, withal, Mr. Larrabee was a very honest and loyal person, strong in his likes and dislikes, devoted to David, for whom he had the greatest admiration, and he had taken a fancy to our friend, stoutly maintaining that he “wa’n’t no more stuck-up ’n you be,” only, as he remarked to Bill Perkins, “he hain’t had the advantigis of your bringin’ up.”

After some preliminary talk—­“Say,” he said to John, “got stuck with any more countyfit money lately?”

John’s face reddened a little and Dick laughed.

“The old man told me about it,” he said.  “Say, you’d ought to done as he told ye to.  You’d ‘a’ saved fifteen dollars,” Dick declared, looking at our friend with an expression of the utmost amusement.

“I don’t quite understand,” said John rather stiffly.

“Didn’t he tell ye to charge ’em up to the bank, an’ let him take ’em?” asked Dick.

“Well?” said John shortly.

“Oh, yes, I know,” said Mr. Larrabee.  “He said sumpthin’ to make you think he was goin’ to pass ’em out, an’ you didn’t give him no show to explain, but jest marched into the back room an’ stuck ’em onto the fire.  Ho, ho, ho, ho!  He told me all about it,” cried Dick.  “Say,” he declared, “I dunno ‘s I ever see the old man more kind o’ womble-cropped over anythin’.  Why, he wouldn’t no more ‘a’ passed them bills ’n he’d ‘a’ cut his hand off.  He, he, he, he!  He was jest ticklin’ your heels a little,” said Mr. Larrabee, “to see if you’d kick, an’,” chuckled the speaker, “you surely did.”