Four years had passed, and well might Billy feel quite satisfied as he stood there in his shirt sleeves at the close of a certain day looking out over the farm.  While he was thus engaged a young man, tall and slight in appearance and apparently not much more than twenty years of age, approached.  He was lithe and seemingly agile; a thin, brown beard covered his face, which was cheery indeed, as was the smile which shone through two big brown eyes.  His clothing was well worn, and upon his shoulders or back was something resembling a soldier’s knapsack, while in his hand he carried a knotty stick.  Halting at the gate, where Sparrow and Nancy and the boy stood, the stranger saluted them with a courteous bow.  “Good evening,” he said, “may I inquire how far it is to the next village?”

“Not more than two miles,” was the answer.

“Is there a tavern in the village?” was next asked.

“O, yes, two of them,” was Billy’s response.

“I’m looking for work,” said the stranger.  “Do you think I shall be able to find something to do in the village?”

“What sort of work do you want?” queried Billy with a smile.

“Anything that is honest,” was the prompt reply.  “What I don’t know I can learn.  I want to settle down, at least for a while.”

“Well, now,” replied Billy, “you don’t look as if you could do much on a farm.  If you could, I might give you a job, at least for a week or two; only farmers or carpenters are needed through this part of the country.  Could you plow corn or saw wood?”

“Well,” was the response, “I don’t think that I could plow corn, but I could saw wood, hoe in the garden, do chores, or feed stock.”

As they talked the stranger unbuckled his knapsack, and set it down on the horse block.

“Where are you from?” asked Sparrow in a somewhat abrupt tone.

“I’m from—­from—­well, from every place, from New York last.”

“Where are you headed for?”

“Well, sir, to be honest with you, I suppose you might call me a tramp.  I’m hunting for a place to settle down in, as I seem to be without friends, so one place is as good as another for me.”

It was now nearly dark, and the kindly heart of Nancy prompted her to ask him if he were hungry, to which he replied that he had eaten nothing since morning.  “I had a good breakfast,” he added, “at a place called Tipton.”

“Why,” ejaculated Billy, “Tipton is twenty-two miles away.”

The good wife had slipped away, and presently returned, inviting him to enter and have something to eat.  As they entered the cozy dining room, turning to Mrs. Sparrow, the young man said:  “My name is Edwards—­Carl Edwards; I am an Englishman, and have been in this country only six weeks.  I am trying to find some employment.”

Billy, learning from Nancy that the stranger was a countryman of his, after he had eaten his supper, engaged him in conversation concerning the old country, during the course of which he learned that they were from the same county—­he, Billy, from Barnard Castle, and Edwards from the city of Durham, which places were not more than forty miles apart.  Of course Billy would not turn his countryman out to seek a lodging.  So he was invited to remain for the night, which invitation the young man gladly accepted.