While this conversation was going on Herbert had entered the tavern, but he could not avoid hearing what was said, including Mr. Holden’s reply.  He was not frightened, but inwardly determined that he would do his duty, and then if Mr. Holden saw fit to impose upon him, he would make what resistance he was able.

“I wonder what high notions he means,” thought our hero.  “If he expects to make a slave of me, he will be mistaken, that’s all.”

“Sit down there, and I’ll go and order dinner,” said Mr. Holden, entering.

Just then, however, the landlord came in and greeted Abner Holden, whom he appeared to know.

“I want dinner for two, Mr. Robinson,” he said.

“For two!  You haven’t brought your wife along with you, Holden?” he said, jocosely.

“No, I haven’t come across any such lady yet.  I’ve got a boy here who is bound to me.  And hark you, landlord,” he added, in a lower voice, that Herbert might not hear, “he will pay you for his dinner out of a five-dollar bill which he has with him.  You needn’t give back the change to him, but to me.”

“Yes, I understand,” said the landlord, winking.

“I prefer to keep the money for him.  He has refused to give it up and this will give me a chance to get hold of it without any fuss.”

“All right.”

“If he kept it himself he’d spend it in some improper way.”

“Just so.  I’ll attend to it.”

Now our hero was gifted with pretty sharp ears, and he caught enough of this conversation to understand Mr. Holden’s plot, which he straightway determined should not succeed.

“You shan’t take me in this time, Mr. Holden,” he thought.

He opened his pocketbook to see if he had enough small change to pay for his dinner without intrenching upon his bill.  There proved to be a quarter and two half-dimes, amounting, of course, to thirty-five cents.  This would not be quite sufficient.

“I must change the bill somewhere,” he said to himself.

Looking out of the tavern window, he saw the village store nearly opposite.  He took his cap and ran over.  There was a clerk leaning with his elbows upon the counter, appearing unoccupied.

It occurred to Herbert that he might want some paper and envelopes.  He inquired the price.

“We sell the paper at a penny a sheet, and the envelopes will cost you eight cents a package.”

“Then you may give me twelve sheets of paper and a package of envelopes,” said Herbert.

The package was done up for him and in payment he tendered the bill.

The clerk gave him back four dollars and eighty cents in change.  He put the money in his pocketbook, and the paper and envelopes in his jacket-pocket, and returned to the tavern well pleased with his success.  Mr. Holden was in the barroom, taking a glass of “bitters,” and had not noticed the absence of our hero.