"Good old fellow!" cried Sandy when Bob drew near; "good old pal!" And then the dog was in the young fellow's arms. After a few moments they sedately went on their homeward way together—Sandy's hand resting upon the uplifted yellow head.
"Sandy, you look thin!" Matilda remarked at dinner as she eyed him over her spectacles. "You make me think of the lean days after your fever seven years ago."
"I reckon I am still growing, Miss Markham."
Levi scanned the young face.
"Mill work never used you up," he said slowly.
"It's not work, sir. It's been right hot in town, and you know the city a ways stifles me."
"Umph!" said Markham.
After Matilda had gone to bed that evening Levi sat on the broad piazza with Sandy, while a late yellow-red moon rode majestically in the sky and lighted the dew-touched meadow land.
"Looks hot," Levi murmured; "hot and dry."
"Yes," agreed Sandy. Then quite suddenly Markham asked: