"That boy isn't a regular tramp," said Grandpa Brown. "But there is
something queer about him. He seems afraid. I must have a talk with him
after he eats."

"He seems nice and neat," said Mother Brown.

"Yes, he's clean. I like him for that. Well, we'll soon find out what he
has to tell me."

But the boy did not seem to want to talk much about himself, when
Grandpa Brown began asking questions, after the meal.

"You have run away; haven't you?" Grandpa Brown asked.

"Yes--yes, sir, I did run away."

"From home?"

"No, I haven't had any home, that I can remember. I didn't run away from
home. I was working."

"On a farm?"

"No, sir. I didn't work on a farm."

"Where was it then?"

"I--I'd rather not tell," the boy said, looking around him as though he
thought some one might be after him.