Side by side, they walked over to where the newcomers were setting up on the claim accidentally staked by Cindy. The man, who had built a fire with wood carried in from his wagon, did not look tired any more. He looked refreshed and ten years younger. Far from seeming worried, the woman now bloomed like a girl. The four children's eyes were big as saucers. It was a completely happy family.
Something that couldn't possibly happen to them had happened. They owned their own farm. The man came to meet the approaching trio.
"I was so flustered that I plumb forgot to be civil," he said. "I'm Silas Wentworth." He shook hands with Jed and Pete and bowed to Cindy. "Young lady, we'll never forget you."
"It was just luck," Cindy murmured.
"Come meet the family," said Silas Wentworth. "This is my Missus, Jean, and these," he indicated the children in their turn, "are Sally, Silas, Sylvia, and Serena. Say hello, children."
"Hello," Sally, about eight, said bashfully. The younger children giggled.
"Had breakfast?" Silas Wentworth questioned.
"Well, now—" Mr. Simpson began.
"We ain't got a great store of diffe'nt things," Silas Wentworth seemed a little embarrassed. "Truth is, we're down to beans. But they's lots of them."
"Then why'd you tell uth, Pa," Silas, Jr., lisped, "that we'd have to make out with light mealth till you can get thome?"