"
"Just so!" said Abner, nodding. "Drive ahead!"
"Well, we thought if you'd call at the school and ask after him, and
pretend he was a cousin of yours, and all that, it would make him
mad."
"Oh, I see," said Abner, nodding, "he wouldn't like to own a
tin-pedler for his cousin."
"No," said Tom; "he wants us to think all his relations are rich. I
wouldn't mind at all myself," he added, it suddenly occurring to him
that Abner's feelings might be hurt.
"Good!" said Abner, "I see you aint one of the stuck-up kind. I've
got some relations in Boston myself, that are rich and stuck up. I
never go near 'em. What's the name of this chap you're talkin'
about?"
"Fletcher--Fitzgerald Fletcher."
"Fletcher!" repeated Abner. "Whew! well, that's a joke!"
"What's a joke?" asked Tom, rather surprised.
"Why, he _is_ my relation--a sort of second cousin. Why, my mother
and his father are own cousins. So, don't you see we're second
cousins?"
"That's splendid!" exclaimed Tom. "I can hardly believe it."
"It's so. My mother's name was Fletcher--Roxanna Fletcher--afore she
married. Jim Fletcher--this boy's father--used to work in my
grandfather's store, up to Hampton, but he got kinder discontented,
and went off to Boston, where he's been lucky, and they do say he's
mighty rich now. I never go nigh him, 'cause I know he looks down on
his country cousins, and I don't believe in pokin' my nose in where I
aint wanted.
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