And he walked away toward the village with the air of a man who had forgotten more than the rest of his race were ever likely to find out.
At all events, Dick Lee had managed to say a good word for his benefactor, little as he could guess what might be the consequences.
Meantime, Dab Kinzer, when he went out from breakfast, had strolled away to the north fence, for a good look at the house which was thenceforth to be the home of his favorite sister. He had seen it before, every day since he could remember; but it seemed to have a fresh and almost mournful interest for him just now.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed, as he leaned against the fence. "Putting up ladders? Oh yes, I see! That's old Tommy McGrew, the house-painter. Well, Ham's house needs a new coat as badly as I did. Sure it'll fit, too. Only it aint used to it any more'n I am."
"Dabney!"
It was his mother's voice, and Dab felt like "minding" very promptly that morning.
"Dabney, my boy, come here to the gate."
"Ham's having his house painted," he remarked, as he joined his mother.
"Is he?" she said. "We'll go and see about it."
As they drew nearer, however, Dabney discovered that carpenters as well as painters were plying their trade in and about the old homestead. There were window-sashes piled here and blinds there, a new door or so ready for use, with bundles of shingles, and other signs of approaching "renovation."