gray hair and a dark, stern face?"

"No, he's a round, jolly fellow, is Aleck, and he stopped growing
pretty much before he'd ever begun. I reckon the man you mean is
Thomas Gordon. I seen him driving down the road too. HE won't
be troubling you with invitations up, small fear of it. The
Gordons ain't sociable, to say the least of it. No, sir!
Mother, pass the biscuits to the Master."

"Who was the young fellow he had with him?" asked Eric curiously.

"Neil--Neil Gordon."

"That is a Scotchy name for such a face and eyes. I should
rather have expected Guiseppe or Angelo. The boy looks like an
Italian."

"Well, now, you know, Master, I reckon it's likely he does,
seeing that that's exactly what he is. You've hit the nail
square on the head. Italyun, yes, sir! Rather too much so, I'm
thinking, for decent folks' taste."

"How has it happened that an Italian boy with a Scotch name is
living in a place like Lindsay?"

"Well, Master, it was this way. About twenty-two years ago--WAS
it twenty-two, Mother or twenty-four? Yes, it was twenty-two--
'twas the same year our Jim was born and he'd have been
twenty-two if he'd lived, poor little fellow. Well, Master,
twenty-two years ago a couple of Italian pack peddlers came along