“Conceivable, certainly. But I can see no grounds for such a conjecture.”
“How far down the road, in this direction, did tracks run?”
“Not beyond the fence-bar opening from the Tuxall field, if that is what you mean.”
“It is, exactly. Do you know this Tuxall?”
“Hardly at all. He is a recent comer among us.”
“Well, I shall probably want to make his acquaintance, later.”
“Have a care, then. He is very jealous of his precious meteor, and guards the ruins of the barn, where it lies, with a shot gun.”
“Indeed? He promises to be an interesting study. Meantime, I’d like to look at your son’s clothes.”
From a closet Mr. Prentice brought out a coat and waistcoat of the “pepper-and-salt” pattern which is sold by the hundreds of thousands the whole country over. These the visitor examined carefully. The coat was caked with mud, particularly thick on one shoulder. He called the minister’s attention to it.
“That would be from lying wet on the shore,” said the Reverend Mr. Prentice.