“I'll try,” answered the tall tramp. “I'm goin' to ask the kids yonder, first, if any o' my people still live here.”
The tall tramp strode over to the two boys. His companion shambled down the embankment to obtain, at the turntable near the locomotive shed across the railroad, a red-hot cinder with which to light his pipe.
“Do you youngsters know people here by the name of Kershaw?” began the tall tramp, standing beside the two boys.
Both remained sitting on the grass. One shook his head. The other said, “No.”
The tramp was silent for a moment. Then it occurred to him that his mother had taken his stepfather's name and his sister might be married. Therefore he asked:
“How about a family named Coates?”
“None here,” replied one of the boys.
But the other said, “Coates? That's the name of Tommy Hackett's grandmother.”
The tramp drew and expelled a quick, audible breath.
“Then,” he said, “this Mrs. Coates must be the mother of Tommy's mother. Do you know what Tommy's mother's first name is?”