"No?"
"No. It seems this Strong boy's father is in jail now for stealing, so it ain't strange the boy's a thief."
"But maybe he isn't guilty," I put in, by way of a mild protest.
"Maybe. Of course it's rather tough on him if he isn't. But you can't tell nowadays; boys is so all-fired high toned, and want to play big fiddle."
"Some boys are, but not all of them."
"Some of them. Now there's our landlord, who is in the house now, he's got a son as extravagant as can be, and if it wasn't for Mr. Woodward keeping him in funds I don't know what that boy might not do. He—whoa, there, Billy, whoa!"
The last remark was addressed to a horse standing in one of the stalls. A clap of thunder had set the animal to prancing.
"Your horse feels rather uneasy," I remarked, glad of a chance to change the subject.
"Allers acts that way when there's a storm going on. Too bad, too, for I want to hitch him up and take Mr. Woodward and another man that's with him over to Darbyville."
As Mr. Decker spoke he led the horse from the stall and backed him up between the shafts of the carriage that stood near the rear of the barn.