"And never got ate up?" questioned Lem, eagerly.
"I am here to answer for that, though I have been pretty near it once or twice. Should you like to hear some of my adventures some time?"
"Wouldn't I, though! I s'pose you couldn't tell a feller now?"
"Not now," said Mr. Stanton, "we have done the best we can for the roof, and I must go home; but I shall come over again this afternoon to see Dolly, and I will tell you the story of a tiger hunt then. But"—looking about him,—"this is not a very nice place to sit down and tell a story in, with all these bones, ashes, and bits of old iron lying about."
"I'll fix it up, fustrate," exclaimed Lem; "but now, I say, mister," and Lem hitched up his ragged pantaloons, scratched his head, and dug his bare toes into a patch of moss in an unwonted fit of shame.
"Well," said Mr. Stanton, kindly.
"I didn't take little Shiny-hair's cup, now, I didn't; and I wish you wouldn't think it."
"I do not think it, Lem. The cup is found, and I do not believe you took it."
"Don't you, now?" said Lem, looking up; "well, I thought may be you didn't when you gi' me the money for the straw."
"I am glad to know that I may trust you, Lem," said Mr. Stanton.