school-house, here slowly lifted one leg over another bench, and sat
himself astride of it, leaning forward on his elbow, his chin resting
between his hands.

"As far as the old folks goes, Mr. Ford, I'm a kind of an orphan."

"A KIND of orphan?" echoed Ford.

"Yes," said Uncle Ben, leaning heavily on his chin, so that the action
of his jaws with the enunciation of each word slightly jerked his head
forward as if he were imparting confidential information to the bench
before him. "Yes, that is, you see, I'm all right ez far as the old man
goes--HE'S dead; died way back in Mizzouri. But ez to my mother, it's
sorter betwixt and between--kinder unsartain. You see, Mr. Ford, she
went off with a city feller--an entire stranger to me--afore the old
man died, and that's wot broke up my schoolin'. Now whether she's here,
there, or yon, can't be found out, though Squire Tompkins allowed--and
he were a lawyer--that the old man could get a divorce if he wanted, and
that you see would make me a whole orphan, ef I keerd to prove title,
ez the lawyers say. Well--thut sorter lets the old folks out. Then
my brother was onc't drowned in the North Platt, and I never had any
sisters. That don't leave much family for plannin' about--does it?"

"No," said the master reflectively, gazing at Uncle Ben, "unless you
avail yourself of your advantages now and have one of your own. I
suppose now that you are rich, you'll marry."

Uncle Ben slightly changed his position, and then with his finger and
thumb began to apparently feed himself with certain crumbs which had
escaped from the children's luncheon-baskets and were still lying on