waited upon Aunt Polly after supper with a feverish eagerness to be of
use. When all was in order for bedtime, and Leander rose to wind the
clock, he spoke. It was getting about time to roll up his blankets and
pull out, he said. Leander felt for the ledge where the clock-key
belonged, and made no answer.

"I was saying--I guess it's about time for me to be moving on. The grass
is starting"--

"Are you cal'latin' to live on grass?" Leander drawled with cutting irony.
"Gettin' tired of the old woman's cooking? Well, she ain't much of a
cook!"

Uncle John remained silent, working at his hands. His mouth, trembled
under his thin straggling beard. "I never was better treated in my life,
and you know it. It ain't handsome of you, Lewis, to talk that way!"

"He don't mean nothing, Uncle John! What makes you so foolish, Looander!
He just wants you to know there's no begrudgers around here. You're
welcome, and more than welcome, to settle down and camp right along with
us."

"Winter and summer!" Leander put in, "if you're satisfied. There's nobody
in a hurry to see the last of ye."

Uncle John's mild but determined resistance was a keen disappointment to
his friends. Leander thought himself offended. "What fly's stung you,
anyhow! Heard from any of your folks lately?"

The old man smiled.