"Wont you ride, stranger?" asked a friendly voice.
"Thank you, sir, I will."
"I reckon you aren't from these parts," said the man after a more careful survey of his companion.
"No, sir, I'm from Massachusetts. I'm a stranger here. I came to buy a cow for my father, who is a clergyman. Do you know any for sale about here?"
"Well," said the man laughing, "I reckon any o' my neighbors'd sell if they could get their price. But to-morrow'll be time enough to talk about it. We're most home now. Wife'll have supper ready."
Tears gushed to Dick's eyes, though they were not often seen there. How kindly had his heavenly Father provided for him. He almost wished to hug the kind man. One mile more was soon passed; but not before Dick had told much of his personal history and of his own wishes for the future, to all of which the man listened with intense interest.
They drove at last up to a one story white house large on the ground floor and chambers in the attic. The curtains were drawn up, and a bright wood fire blazing inside. How pleasant it all looked to poor Dick. At the sound of the bells a woman's face appeared at the windows.
"Walk right in, Mr.—" he hesitated.
"My name is Richard Stuart."
"Mr. Stuart, wife," said the man, "I'll be in directly."