As the stranger turned into the front yard, he saw Brandon, sitting on the bank, whistling.
"I don't need to ask whose son you are," said the stranger, smiling.
"Why not?" demanded Brandon, haughtily.
"Those teeth are unmistakable, my young friend."
"Do you mean to insult me? Who are you, any way?" asked Brandon, imperiously.
"A friend of your father's who won't stand any impudence!" said the stranger, sharply. "Go into the house and tell him that Peter Kirby wishes to see him."
Cowed by the stranger's manner, Brandon sulkily obeyed.