"Walks pretty straight fer him, don't he?" snickered the first speaker.
"He's not ben tight fer two days."
"Bet ye a jack-knife he'll be spreein' it fer all he's wuth to-morrow."
Fortunately these comments did not reach the ears of their object, who, all unconscious of the interest which he inspired, made good his way at a fairly rapid pace.
Presently he stopped.
With muslin skirts swaying, hair rumpled, and fair young face flushed with exertion, Phœbe Wise was hurrying toward the common. She was almost running in her haste, for she was late and the Shakespeare class was a momentous institution.
"Oh, say, Cousin Phœbe," was the man's greeting, "can you tell me ef yer sister's to home?"
The young girl came to a sudden full stop in her surprise. This cousinly greeting from the village reprobate was as exciting and as inexplicable as it was unheard of.
"Why, Mr. Droop!" she exclaimed, "I—I—I s'pose so."
The truth was the truth, after all. But it was hard on Rebecca. What could this man want with her sister?