Such was the man about whom Robert's unknown passenger exhibited so much curiosity, and whom it seemed that he was intending to visit.
"I wonder whether the old man is at home!" he said to himself, as he entered the front yard through a gateway, from which the gate had long since disappeared. "He don't keep things looking very neat and trim, that's a fact," he continued, noticing the rank weeds and indiscriminate litter which filled the yard. "Just give me this place, and his money to keep it, and I'd make a change in the looks of things pretty quick."
He stepped up to the front door, and, lifting the old-fashioned knocker, sounded a loud summons.
"He'll hear that, if he isn't very deaf," he thought.
But the summons appeared to be without effect. At all events, he was left standing on the doorstone, and no one came to bid him enter.
"He can't be at home, or else he won't come," thought the visitor. "I'll try him again," and another knock, still louder than before, sounded through the farmhouse.
But still no one came to the door. The fact was, that the old farmer had gone away early, with a load of hay, which he had sold; to a stable-keeper living some five miles distant.
"I'll reconnoiter a little," said the stranger.
He stepped to the front window, and looked in. All that met his gaze was a bare, dismantled room.
"Not very cheerful, that's a fact," commented the outsider. "Well, he don't appear to be here; I'll go round to the back part of the house."