The tramp was inquisitive.
"Vane."
"Eh? Is that a fact?"
The stout fellow started and regarded the girl fixedly.
"Is the name a familiar one?" questioned the girl after a moment, anxious to conciliate the man. Her nearest neighbor was at least a quarter mile distant, and the house was concealed by a clump of trees, so that the girl felt that she was at the mercy of this burly, ill-looking stranger, should he attempt violence.
"Vane, Vane," he muttered. "Reckon I've heard the name before. And you're
Victory, I reckon?"
"Victoria."
"Exactly. Sister to Rance Vane. I know'd that chap onct, and I found him not a man, but a scamp. I never liked the Vanes, father'n son. The old man's dead, I s'pose?"
"Yes."
"How long sense?"