Sim Vedder was the man who worked for Dr. Gay, and he was as thin as a fence rail. So was his face, and his hooked nose had a queer twist in it half way to the point.
He was coming with what looked like an enormous kite trying all the while to get away from him.
All the boys wanted to ask questions, but they didn't know exactly what to ask, so they kept still.
"Kiting, are you? Well, just you let me look at your kites, and then you may look at mine. One at a time, now. Keep back. Make that kite yourself, Parley?"
"Yes, I made it."
"Had plenty of wood around your house, I guess. Your sticks are bigger than mine, and your kite is only two feet high, and mine's five. Look at it."
He turned the back of his kite toward them as he spoke, and they saw that the frame-work of it was made of a number of very slender slips of what looked like ash or hickory wood.
"Mine's made of pine," said Parley. "And yours'll break, too."
"No, it won't. Well, maybe yours'll fly. Set it agoing. There's plenty of wind."
Parley obeyed, and, mainly because there was indeed a good deal of wind, his heavy-made kite began to go up.