“Good day, madam,” said Dick and walked away, and Sam and Tom did the same.  The old lady continued to call after them, but they paid no attention.

“Poor Jimmie!  If he isn’t killed in a railroad accident, he’ll be talked to death some day,” was Sam’s comment.

“Don’t you care.  We know that Jimmie’s got a wart, anyway,” observed Tom, and he said this so dryly his brothers had to laugh.  “Always add to your fund of knowledge when you can,” he added, in imitation of his Uncle Randolph.

“I hope we have better success at the next farmhouse,” said Sam.  “I don’t know that I want to walk all the way to Ashton with this dress-suit case.”

“Oh, we’re bound to find some kind of a rig at one place or another,” said Dick.  “All the folks can’t be like that old woman.”

They walked along the road until they came in sight of a second farmhouse, also set in among trees and bushes.  A neat gravel path, lined with rose bushes, ran from the gate to the front piazza.

“This looks nice,” observed Sam.  “Some folks of the better sort must live here.”

The three boys walked up to the front piazza and set down their baggage.  On the door casing was an electric push button.

“No old-fashioned knocker here,” observed Dick as he gave the button a push.

“Well, we are not wanting electric push buttons,” said Tom.  “An electric runabout or a good two-seat carriage will fill our bill.”

The boys waited for fully a minute and then, as nobody came to answer their summons, Dick pushed the button again.

“I don’t hear it,” said Sam.  “Perhaps it doesn’t ring.”

“Probably it rings in the back of the house,” answered his big brother.

Again the boys waited, and while they did so all heard talking at a distance.

“Somebody in the kitchen, I guess,” said Tom.  “Maybe we had better go around there.  Some country folks don’t use their front doors excepting for funerals and when the minister comes.”

Leaving their dress-suit cases on the piazza, the Rover boys walked around the side of the farmhouse in the direction of the kitchen.  The building was a low and rambling one and they had to pass a sitting-room.  Here they found a window wide open to let in the fresh air and sunshine.

“Now, you must go, really you must!” they heard in a girl’s voice.  “I haven’t done a thing this afternoon, and what will papa say when he gets back?”

“Oh, that’s all right, Minnie,” was the answer in masculine tones.  “You like us to be here, you know you do.  And, remember, we haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Yes, I know, Mr. Flockley, but—­”

“Oh, don’t call me Mr. Flockley.  Call me Dudd.”

“Yes, and please don’t call me Mr. Koswell,” broke in another masculine voice.  “Jerry is good enough for me every time.”

“But you must go now, you really must!” said the girl.