"I cal'late as how there's another party that wants his bearin's,"
suggested Sproul.

A rather decayed-looking gentleman, wearing a frock-coat shiny at
the elbows, and a fuzzy plug-hat, was tapping his cane against one
of the pickets to attract attention.

"I am looking for the residence of Miss Pharlina Pike," he announced,
with a precise puckering of his lips. "I'll thank you for a word of
direction. But I want to say, as a lowly follower of the Lord--in
evangelical lines--that it is not seemly for two men to quarrel in
public."

Ward had been gaping at him in amazement.

"I can tell ye right now," he cried, "that Miss Pharline Pike ain't
hirin' no farm-hand that wears a plug-hat! There ain't no need of
your goin' to her place."

"My dear sir," smiled the decayed gentleman, "it is a delicate matter
not to be canvassed in public; but I can assure you that I shall not
remain with Miss Pike as a menial or a bond-servant. Oh no! Not by
any means, sir!"

Ward scruffed his hand over his forehead, blinking with puzzled
astonishment.

"I'll thank you for the directions," said the stranger. "They were
not able to give me exact instructions at the village--at least, I