"We're not borrowing any trouble about such things," said Grandma
Padgett.

"Some of our townsfolks went out there," continued the wagon-maker,
"but what was left of 'em come back. They had to buy their drinkin'
water, and the winters on them perrares froze the children in their
beds! Oh, I wouldn't go to the Eeleenoy," said the wagon-maker
coaxingly. "You're better off here, if you only knew it."

As Grandma Padgett heard this remonstrance with silent dignity, the
wagon-maker took himself off with a few additional remarks.

Then they began to make themselves snug for the night. The wagon-cover
was taken off and made into a tent for Grandma Padgett and aunt Corinne.
Robert Day was to sleep in the carriage, and Zene insisted on sleeping
with blankets on the wagon where he could watch the goods. He would be
within calling distance of the camp.

"We're full as comfortable as we were last night, anyhow," observed
the head of the caravan.

Zene said it made no difference about his supper. He took thankfully
what was kept for him, and Robert Day felt certain Zene was trying to
bestow on him some conscience-stricken glances.

It was an occasion on which Zene could be made to tell a story. He
was not lavish with such curious ones as he knew. Robert sometimes
suspected him to be a mine of richness, but it took such hard mining
to get a nugget out that the results hardly compensated for the