"We needn't go into that now, I suppose," said Mr. Gwynne.

"No, I guess I am buttin' in--a thing I don't often do--but I am off my
stride to-night anyway, and I am doin' what I never did in all my life
before. I guess it was them kids of yours and your missis. I know it
ain't my business, but what are you goin' to do with yourself?"

"I don't know yet," replied Mr. Gwynne, declining to be confidential.

"Not goin' into business, I hope. You ain't got the parts. Some people
ain't got 'em, and you ain't. Goin' to farm?"

"No, I think not. The fact is I'm about selling my farm."

"Selling it?"

"Yes, I had an offer to-day which I am thinking of accepting."

"An offer, eh, from a feller named Martin, I suppose?"

"How did you know?"

"I don't know. I just figgered. Offered you about a hundred dollars,
eh?"

"No; I wish he had. It's worth a hundred with the house and
buildings--they are good buildings."

"Say, I don't like to butt in on any man's business, but is the price a
secret?"