came back and found the stranger as he had left him. "Come on, if you
want your dinner," he said; and the stranger rose and looked at him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Thomas Jefferson Durgin."

"Well, Thomas Jefferson Durgin, will you show me the way to the pump and
bring a towel along?"

"Want to wash?"

"I haven't changed my mind."

"Come along, then." The boy made a movement as if to lead the way
indoors; the stranger arrested him.

"Here. Take hold of this and put it out of the rush of travel somewhere."
He lifted his burden from where he had dropped it in the road and swung
it toward the boy, who ran down the steps and embraced it. As he carried
it toward a corner of the porch he felt of the various shapes and
materials in it.

Then he said, "Come on!" again, and went before the guest through the dim
hall running midway of the house to the door at the rear. He left him on
a narrow space of stone flagging there, and ran with a tin basin to the
spring at the barn and brought it back to him full of the cold water.

"Towel," he said, pulling at the family roller inside the little porch at
the door; and he watched the stranger wash his hands and face, and then