Nora shied, and he looked up to discover that he had nearly run down a
pedestrian--a stout little man with a bundle under his arm, who held
up one hand as if to arrest him.
Involuntarily he drew rein, and stopped beside the traveler with a
look of inquiry.
"Sorry to trouble you, sir," remarked the little man, in a cheery
voice, "but I ain't just certain about my way."
"Where do you want to go?" asked the boy.
"To Jane Merrick's place. They call it Elmhurst, I guess."
"It's straight ahead," said Kenneth, as the mare walked on. His
questioner also started and paced beside him.
"Far from here?"
"A mile, perhaps."
"They said it was three from the village, but I guess I've come a
dozen a'ready."
The boy did not reply to this. There was nothing offensive in the
man's manner. He spoke with an easy familiarity that made it difficult
not to respond with equal frank cordiality, and there was a shrewd
expression upon his wrinkled, smooth-shaven face that stamped him a
man who had seen life in many of its phases.
Kenneth, who resented the companionship of most people, seemed
attracted by the man, and hesitated to gallop on and leave him.
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