“That's Hackett's house,” said one of the boys.
“Thanks, very much,” replied the tramp, continuing to walk with them.
The boys looked surprised at his not stopping at the house, but they said nothing.
At the next corner the tramp spoke up:
“I think I'll go back now. Good night, youngsters.”
The boys trudged on, and the tramp retraced his steps. When he reached the Hacketts' house, he paused at the gate. The children, a boy of eight and a girl of six, looked at him curiously from the piazza.
“Are you Mr. Hackett's little boy and girl?” he asked.
The girl stepped back to the hall door and stood there. The boy looked up at the tramp and answered, “Yes, sir.”
“Is your mother in?”
“No, she's across the street at Mrs. Johnson's.”