"I reckon I do." The youth plunged the spade share into the earth, and
folded his arms.

"Have a shake, then," continued the stranger.

"But that ain't a tellin' me who you be," said Tommy Taft, approaching
and holding out his hand.

"I'm Jim Taft; and if so be your father was a shoemaker in this town and
got locked up--I say, I'm he!"

There was pathos in the utterance of these words, and, somehow or other,
Tommy Taft's heart fluttered just a little and before he was aware of it
a tear was trickling down his cheek.

"Are you happy, young man," queried the elder. He drew himself up on the
wall.

"Well, I s'pose I am, though I ain't got nuthin'. But folks as haint got
nuthin' and enjoy it is a plagued sight richer than sich as has got
everything and don't enjoy it. Yes--I s'pose I'm happy."

"And where's the old woman?"

"Dead, I s'pose."

"Dead!"

"Or in the work-house where she might'nt have been, if you'd a stayed