The old-fashioned stone house, with its wide porch and heavily carved wooden columns green-coated with climbing ivy, rose amid the stately trees of the lawn, until it seemed lost in a bower of shadowy foliage. The low, thatch-roofed out-buildings and long lines of far-reaching fence, carefully coated with fresh whitewash, stood glistening in the sunlight, quite in harmony with the polished marble window sills of the great stone mansion.
Standing in the very centre of the scene, like some still lingering remnant of the long gone and almost forgotten past, arose the tall, rustic arm of an old-fashioned well-sweep, that raised or lowered a moss-covered, old oaken bucket, filled to overflowing and dripping wet with cool, clear water, not unfrequently visited by this gamboling group of merry children both during and after their play.
As the children rested for a moment beneath the sheltering arms of an old oak tree, they were much surprised to behold the form of a wandering vagabond ambling along the dusty road. His hat was well drawn down over his eyes to avoid the glaring rays of the mid-day sun. Over his shoulder and made fast to the end of a crooked stick, that might have answered as well for a defence as for a staff, hung his sum total of earthly possessions, tied carefully into a small bundle and as carefully hid from view within the folds of a red bandanna handkerchief.
A passing glance only was needed to tell that the wanderer was weary; and as his eyes, glistening with envy, beheld the cool shade of the trees, and the still more inviting bucket above the well, that, half-filled and leaking, hung suspended in mid-air, he halted his weary pace in the road near the gate and beckoned the children to approach.
No second invitation was needed. The boys, more daring and venturesome, bounded toward him with a merry shout and were soon standing on the edge of the lawn near the wanderer; but the little girls, like so many timid fawns of the forest, with a feeling more of fear than of curiosity, lingered tardily behind; and it was some time before they joined their less cautious companions.
He was a curious-looking, but quite jolly vagabond indeed; and although his face was begrimed and smeared with mingled perspiration and dust, his eyes shone with a merry, good-natured twinkle, as he doffed his well worn and dusty black hat and bowed with an air of politeness, quite unknown to the common everyday tramp of the highways of the world.
One of the children laughingly exclaimed:
"Where are you going?"
And another: "Where did you come from?"
And still a third: "Where is your home?"