"No, indeed; not if you wish him to have it."
"Now, Ham," said Dabney, "I'm not big enough to fit that room. Give me one nearer my size. That's a little loose for even Sam, and she can't take any tucks in it!"
Samantha's look changed to one of gratitude, and she did not notice the detested nickname.
"Well, then," said Ham, "we'll see about it. You can sleep in the spare chamber to-night. Mother Kinzer, I couldn't say enough about this house business if I talked all night. It must have cost you a deal of money. I couldn't have dared to ask it. I guess you'd better kiss me again."
Curious thing it was that came next. One that nobody could have reckoned on. Mrs. Kinzer—good soul—had set her heart on having Ham's house and Miranda's "ready for them" on their return, and now Ham seemed to be so pleased about it she actually began to cry. She said, too: "I'm so sorry about the barn!" But Ham only laughed in his quiet way as he kissed his portly mother-in-law, and said:
"Come, mother Kinzer, you didn't set it afire. Can't Miranda and I have some supper? Dab must be hungry, after all that roof-sweeping."
There had been a sharp strain on the nerves of all of them that day and evening, and they were glad enough to gather around the tea-table, while what was left of the old barn smoldered away, with the village boys on guard. Once or twice Ham or Dab went out to make sure all was right, but there was no danger, unless a high wind should come.
By this time the whole village was aware of Dabney's adventure with the tramp, and it was well for that individual that he had walked fast and far before suspicion settled on him, for men went out to seek for him on foot and on horseback.
"He's a splendid fellow, anyway."
Odd, was it not, but Annie Foster and Jenny Walters were half a mile apart when they both said that very thing, just before the clock in the village church hammered out the news that it was ten and bed-time. They were not speaking of the tramp.