“By the way, Andy, did a man named Hopton call on you lately?” asked Carrow, after a pause.
“Hopton? I never heard of him. Who is he?”
“Why, as near as I can learn, he is a real estate man—deals in timber and farm lands. He came here a week or so ago, thinking you had a job here. I told him where you lived, and I supposed he called on you.”
“I didn’t see him. What did he want?”
“He wouldn’t say—leastwise, I didn’t ask him, seeing’s it was none of my business. But he did ask me, confidential like—after he found out that I had known your father well—if your folks had any timber lands over in Michigan.”
“Oh!” Andy uttered the exclamation before he had time to think. “Did he—that is, did he ask about any land in particular?”
“No. I told him I didn’t think you owned any land anywhere. He looked satisfied at that and went away. But I thought he called on you.”
“Where was he from?”
“I don’t know. But they might tell you at the office. Have you got any land?”
It was an awkward question. Andy did not wish to tell a falsehood, nor did he wish to disclose the secret left by his parent. He bit off a mouthful of bread and pretended to choke upon it.