“This town is Cliffwood, isn’t it, lad?” he asked; and somehow the tone of his voice pleased Dick, and he turned and came back to where the old man was seated.
“Yes, that’s Cliffwood,” he replied. “Is there any one you want to find in the town?”
The man was staring very hard at him all the while.
“Might I ask your name, boy?” he inquired, not insolently, Dick thought, but as if for some reason he really wanted to know.
“I’m Dick Horner,” the boy frankly told him. “I live with my grandfather and my mother on the outskirts of Cliffwood. Grandfather Horner is an army veteran, you see, and everybody around here knows him, I guess.”
He wondered why the tramp should start and look at him more keenly than ever, at the same time mumble something to himself.
“Now, I’m of the opinion,” the old man went on to say, presently, “that the mother of such a fine lad as you must have a gentle heart.”
Dick fell into the trap headlong. If any one ever wished to win his good opinion there was no shorter road to success than through praise of his little mother.
“She’s the best mother in the whole country, and that’s right!” he declared in his boyish way.
“Do you think, lad, she would give me a bite to eat if I walked along with you?” continued the trampish looking stranger, eagerly.