"California."
"Do tell! Guess you've been one of the rovin' sort, ain't you?"
"Haven't done much else."
"It don't appear to have agreed with you remarkable well," said the blunt old lady, peering at him over her spectacles.
"If I hadn't had the devil's own luck, I'd have been a rich man, instead of a beggar," answered the tramp, with a grim look and an ireful knitting of his black brows.
"Been unfort'nate, have you? I'm sorry for that; but it 'pears to me them as stays to home and works stiddy does better than them that goes huntin' after luck," observed Aunt Liddy, feeling it her duty to give a word of advice.
"Shouldn't wonder if you were right, ma'am. But some folks haven't got any home to stay in; and fellows of my sort have to hunt after luck, for it won't come to 'em."
"Ain't you got no friends, young man?"
"Not one. Lost the last yesterday."
"Took suddin, I suppose?" and the old lady's face was full of interest as she put the question.