As I looked at the man I seemed to know all about him. Some people come
to us like that, all at once, opening out to some unsuspected key. His
face bore not a few marks of refinement, though work and discouragement
had done their best to obliterate them; his nose was thin and high, his
eye was blue, too blue, and his chin somehow did not go with the Rucker
farm. I knew! A man who in his time had seen many an open door, but who
had found them all closed when he attempted to enter! If any one ever
needed the benefits of my fraternity, he was that man.

"What Society did you think I belonged to?" he asked.

"Well," I said, "when I was in town a man who wanted to sell me a
corn-planter asked me if I was a Mason----"

"Did he ask you that, too?" interrupted my companion.

"He did," I said. "He did----" and I reflected not without enthusiasm
that I had come away without a corn-planter. "And when I drove out of
town I was feeling rather depressed because I wasn't a member of the
lodge."

"Were you?" exclaimed my companion. "So was I. I just felt as though I
had about reached the last ditch. I haven't any money to pay into lodges
and it don't seems if a man could get acquainted and friendly without."

"Farming is rather lonely work sometimes, isn't it?" I observed.

"You bet it is," he responded. "You've been there yourself, haven't
you?"