“She didn’t say anything about it when I came out,” said Tom, entering into the joke.

“Maybe you’d like a tin-dipper for your youngest boy?”

“Maybe I would, if you’ve got any to give away.”

“I see you’ve cut your eye-teeth.  Is there anything else I can do for you?  I’m in for a trade.”

“I don’t know, unless I sell myself for rags.”

“Anything for a trade.  I’ll give you two cents a pound.”

“That’s too cheap.  I came to ask your help in a trick we boys want to play on one of our number.”

“Sho! you don’t say so.  That aint exactly in my line.”

“I’ll tell you all about it.  There’s a chap at our school—­the Academy, you know—­who’s awfully stuck up.  He’s all the time bragging about belonging to a first family in Boston, and turning up his nose at poorer boys.  We want to mortify him.”

“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.”

“Then you are really and truly Fitz’s cousin?”

“If that’s the boy’s name.  Seems to me it’s a kinder queer one.  I s’pose it’s a fust-claas name.  Sounds rather stuck up.”

“Won’t the boys roar when they hear about it!  Are you willing to enter into our plan?”

“Well,” said Abner, “I’ll do it.  I can’t abide folks that’s stuck up.  I’d rather own a cousin like you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bickford.”

“When do you want me to come round?”

“How long do you stay in town?”