To his surprise the other started, and looked keenly at him.
"Riverport, you say, young man?" he muttered. "I don't seem to know you. Might I ask your name, please?"
"Fred Fenton, sir. But as we only came to the place a year ago last spring, of course you wouldn't be apt to know me."
"No, I haven't been in Riverport for quite a number of years. We do what little trading we have in Grafton, which is just as near, though not so large a town. But you spoke of interesting some people in our condition. For her sake I would even sink my pride and accept their help. But you must make me one promise, boy!"
"As many as you like, sir; what might this particular one be?" asked Fred, cheerfully.
"Don't, under any circumstances, let Sparks Lemington have anything to do with the assistance you bring me; or I would utterly refuse to touch the slightest thing, even if we both starved for it!" was the astonishing reply of the sick man, as a look of anger showed in his face, and he shut his jaws hard.
Evidently, then, he had some good cause for detesting the rich and unscrupulous Squire Lemington. Well, Fred found reason to believe there were a good many others besides this farmer who felt the same.
"Oh! Fred, come out here!" called Bristles, just then, before Fred could ask any further questions.
Believing that his chum might be having some difficulty in finding things, and wanted help, Fred hurried into the adjoining room, which was the kitchen. There was also a dining room next, which they had entered first, and apparently a couple of sleeping rooms up stairs, for the girl had gone above.
Bristles was busily engaged. He had succeeded in getting a fire started, and was rummaging through a cupboard, looking for eatables. Accustomed to seeing a well stocked larder in his own home, Bristles was shocked at the lack of everything a hungry boy would think ought to be found in a kitchen pantry.