But Lloyd Pryor had become interested in what he was reading. "You
talk too much, young man," he said coldly, and there was no further
conversation. The old stage jogged along in the uncertain sunshine;
sometimes Mr. Pryor smoked, once he took a nap. While he slept the
little boy looked at him furtively, but by and by he turned to the
window, absorbed in his own affairs.

As the stage pulled into Old Chester, Mr. Pryor roused himself. "Well,
my boy, here we are," he said.

The child quivered and his hands tightened on his bundle, but he said
nothing. When they drew up at the tavern, there was Danny and Goliath
and Dr. Lavendar.

"Mary gave me some gingerbread for him," Dr. Lavendar was saying to
Van Horn. "I've got it tied up in my handkerchief. Why," he
interrupted himself, screwing up his eyes and peering into the dusk of
the old coach--"why, I believe here's Mrs. Richie's brother too!"

As the horses came to a standstill, Dr. Lavendar was in quite a
flutter of eagerness. But when the very little boy clambered out, the
old minister only shook hands with him, man fashion, with no
particular display of interest.

"I'm glad to see you, David. I am Dr. Lavendar." Then he turned to say
"How do you do?" to Mr. Pryor. "Why, look here," he added in a
cheerful after-thought, "I'm going up your way; get out and come along
in my buggy. Hey! Danny! Stop your snarling. The scoundrel's temper is
getting bad in his old age. Those snails Jonas drives can't keep up
with my trotter."