"Do they ever keep folks,—keep 'em to board?"
"Oh, no! never," replied Nelly.
The man looked disappointed. "Well," he said, "I've got to lie by here a day or two, anyhow. I was in hopes I could get took in. I'm clean beat out; but I can sleep in the wagon."
"My mamma will be glad to do all she can for you if you're sick, I'm sure," said Nelly; "but we haven't any spare room in our house."
The driver looked at Nelly again. He had once been a coachman in a gentleman's family at the East, and he knew by Nelly's voice and polite manner that she was not the child of any of the common farmers of the country.
"Have you lived here long?" he said.
"Oh, no!" replied Nelly: "only since last spring. We came because my papa was sick. He has the asthma."
"Oh!" said the man: "I thought so."
Nelly wondered why the man should have thought her papa had the asthma; but she did not ask him what he meant. In a few minutes, the man lay down in his wagon and fell fast asleep, and Nelly went into the house. After dinner, she told Rob about the man, and they went out together to see him. They peeped into the wagon. It was loaded full of small bits of gray rock: the man was rolled up in a buffalo robe, lying on top of the stones, still fast asleep. His face was very red, and he breathed loud.
"Oh, dear!" said Nelly, "how uncomfortable he must be! He looks real sick."