It is late in the afternoon when I awake, for Mrs. Harris has been better than her word.
Jim is already up, and conversing with Mr. Harris on the all-absorbing topic, of course.
After a bountiful and well-cooked dinner has received our attention, Jim and I go together to the cottage.
Here we are put upon the witness stand by "our old woman," who takes ample vengeance for having been kept so long in the dark concerning my business in Trafton.
After he has berated us to his entire satisfaction, and after Bethel, who, having heard a little, insists upon hearing more, has been gratified by an account of the capture, given for the most part by Jim Long, we go southward again and come to a halt in Jim's cottage. Here we seat ourselves, and, at last, I hear the story of Jim Long, or the man who has, for years, borne that name.
"My name is Harvey James," he begins, slowly. "My father was a farmer, and I was born upon a farm, and lived there until I became of age.
"Except two years passed at a college not far from my home, I had never been a week away from my father's farm. But after my twenty-first birthday, I paid a visit to the city.
"It was short and uneventful, but it unsettled me. I was never content upon the home farm again.