The old man started back so quickly that he tripped and almost fell over his cane.
“Who be you?” he exclaimed, shading his eyes with his hand, and looking up intently at Joe. “You aint Joe Gaston, be ye?”
“Yes, I am; I’m Joe Gaston,” responded the boy, sadly.
Uncle Billy retreated still farther. “Well, I’m dumflustered!” he exclaimed. After a minute he added, “W’ere ye goin’?”
“Home!” replied Joe.
The old man shook his head solemnly. “Ye won’t git much of a welcome ther,” he said.
“Why? Is my father set against me?” asked Joe, anxiously.
“Set aginst ye? That’s puttin’ it too mild. He’s cast ye off. He’s unherited ye. He won’t speak of ye to nobody, an’ he won’t let nobody so much as mention yer name in his presience. Now what ye think o’ that?”
The old man seemed to take delight in giving his unwelcome information. He looked up at Joe with a quizzical smile on his thin face, and waited for an answer.