Meantime the children had gone on their way, Whittier drawing his sister upon the Flyaway, bending all his energies to the task, for the sledding was not very good, so it happened that Lucy was the first to spy a strange sight for that part of the country.
“Look, Whitty! what is that coming?” exclaimed his sister.
Then Whittier stopped, and Lucy in her excitement jumped off the sled and stood beside him, half-frightened.
“Why, that must be one of them things they call a bicycle!” said the boy; “I’ve read a lot about them, and Tom Green saw one in Galway when he was over there staying with his uncle. I guess this is the first one ever got around this way. My! how he skims along. But I wish he would stop, so we could see the machine better.”
As if divining the boy’s wish, the bicyclist came to a stand-still and dismounted as he reached the place where the children waited.
“Halloo, my boy! How’ll you swap? I think I’d like to go coasting this morning; those hills over there look as though they might give a chance for some sport.”
“Say,” continued the stranger without giving Whittier a chance to speak, “do you s’pose a fellow could get a breakfast anywhere around here?”
“I don’t know,” replied Whittier slowly. “I guess, though, that grandma would give you some. I’ve heard her say she never could find it in her heart to turn a tramp away because maybe uncle John might be wanting something to eat and she would want somebody to give him a meal.”
The stranger stooped down and seemed to be brushing the snow off the wheel, and when he spoke it was in a very quiet tone:
“Where does grandma live, and what is her name?”