“An’ ye’ll quit without no wages and without no home?”
Bud nodded his head again.
“Well, I’ve give Josh leave to take the old sorrel and drive his mother to the fair to-day—I got to be the startin’ engine myself. They’ll be there long afore you git there. When yer’s flyin’ ’s all over, ye’ll git right into the spring wagon with ’em and come right out here to old ‘Stump’ Camp’s. This here’ll be yer home till ye git another.”
The tears came into Bud’s eyes.
“I can’t do that, Mr. Camp. I haven’t any money—”
“Don’t I need hands?” interrupted Mr. Camp, with assumed gruffness.
“If you’ll let me work for you?” began Bud. But again he was interrupted.
“Ye don’t need to do that long,” Mr. Camp hastened to say. “Your gaurdeen, Mr. Stockwell, didn’t spare me none last night. If I ain’t mistook there’s somepin comin’ to ye, Bud. An’ I’m goin’ to make it my business to see ’at ye git yer jest dues.”
“You mean the farm?” exclaimed Bud.
“Sure’s yer born,” continued [Mr. Camp], rubbing his chin. “An’ mebbe more. I’ve heered a good deal I ain’t said nothin’ about to you.”