“What do you mean by that?”
“This was our grandfather’s place. We were born in the West, but our people are gone, and so we have come back. We’re going to raise apples. The fields in front of the house are to be turned into an orchard.”
It seemed that the stranger could take in but one thought at a time.
“Your gran’paw lived here?”
“Yes.”
“What mought ’a’ been his name?”
“John Baring was his name. Did you ever hear of him?”
“I heard of him.” The answer, begun near at hand, receded into the shadows, as man and dog disappeared.
Elizabeth returned to the doorstep.
“I told him our pedigree and our intentions. If he had stayed a little longer, I should have told him to keep out of our woodland. Now, my dear, it’s time for bed.”