carry it all."

The Junction House was hidden from the station by the tiny hill, as were
the half dozen other buildings tributary to Chazy Junction. As the wagon
drew up before the long piazza which extended along the front of the
little frame inn they saw a man in shabby gray seated at a small table
with some bread and a glass of milk before him. It was their
unrecognized guest of the night--the uninvited lodger on the rear
platform--but he did not raise his eyes or appear to notice the new
arrivals.

"Mrs. Todd! Hey, Mrs. Todd!" called Uncle John. "Anybody milked the cow
yet?"

A frowsy looking woman came out, all smiles, and nodded pleasantly at
the expectant group in the wagon. Behind her loomed the tall, lean form
of Lucky Todd, the "proprietor," who was serious as a goat, which animal
he closely resembled in feature.

"Breakfas' all 'round, Mr. Merrick?" asked the woman.

"Not this time, Mrs. Todd. Nora has our breakfast waiting for us. But we
want some of your delicious milk to last us to the farm."

"Las' night's milkin's half cream by this time," she rejoined, as she
briskly reentered the house.

The man at the table held out his empty glass.

"Here; fill this up," he said to Lucky Todd.