The lad—he looked to be no more than twelve years of age—turned and glanced at the questioner shyly, bravely trying to summon a smile as he shook his head.
“Oh, well, you will be in a day or two,” responded Dan heartily. “What’s your name?”
“Merrow, sir.”
“Well, buck up, Merrow; and never mind the ‘sir.’ I dare say you chaps are pretty comfortable in Merle, aren’t you?”
“Yes, s—, yes, Mr. Vinton.”
“Oh, so you know me, do you?” laughed Dan. The boy nodded and smiled bashfully.
“I guess every fellow knows you,” he murmured.
“Well, don’t call me Mister, please. Where do you live when you’re at home?”
“Germantown, Pennsylvania, s—, I mean—”