you."

At that the tide of curiosity which I had seen rising ever since
I came began to break through. Oh, I know how difficult it is to
let the wanderer get by without taking toll of him! There are not
so many people here in the country that we can afford to neglect
them. And as I had nothing in the world to conceal, and, indeed,
loved nothing better than the give and take of getting
acquainted, we were soon at it in good earnest.

But it was not enough to tell them that my name was David Grayson
and where my farm was located, and how many acres there were, and
how much stock I had, and what I raised. The great particular
"Why?" --as I knew it would be--concerned my strange presence on
the road at this season of the year and the reason why I should
turn in by chance, as I had done, to help at their planting. If a
man is stationary, it seems quite impossible for him to imagine
why any one should care to wander; and as for the wanderer it is
inconceivable to him how any one can remain permanently at home.

We were all sitting comfortably around the table in the
living-room. The lamps were lighted, and Mr. Stanley, in
slippers, was smoking his pipe and Mrs. Stanley was darning socks
over a mending-gourd, and the two young Stanleys were whispering
and giggling about some matter of supreme consequence to youth.
The windows were open, and we could smell the sweet scent of the
lilacs from the yard and hear the drumming of the rain as it fell
on the roof of the porch.

"It's easy to explain," I said. "The fact is, it got to the point