“Then,” said Margaret with regret, “I suppose he’ll be going on again.”

Aaron Bade stared attentively at one brown hand.  “We could use a man on the farm,” he said.

It gave his wife no pleasure to be obliged to agree with him.

“There’s plenty still for a man to do, after you’re done,” she said.  But she smiled almost at once; for like the women of that north country, crabbed and twisted as their own apple trees, she loved her husband for the trouble he gave her.

“It’s a queer thing,” said Aaron; “he has the look of a bookish man.  Like old St. John Deakan down to the Forge, only St. John don’t know anything, for all his looks.”

“His talk was elegant,” Mrs. Bade agreed.  She stood still for a moment, looking down at her pots and pans.  “He’s seen a deal of life, I dare say,” she added casually—­so casually as to make one almost think that she herself had seen all she wanted to see.

“Well,” said Aaron, “that’s what schooling does for a man.  It gives him a manner of talking, along with something to say.”

Margaret, bent over her work again, plunged her red, wet arms up to the elbow in hot, soapy water.  “You’ll never lack talk, Aaron,” she remarked; “or suffer for want of something to say.  But it isn’t washing my pots for me, nor bringing in the corn . . .”

“I’m going along now,” said Aaron.  “If the old man wakes before I’m back again, don’t hurry him off, mother; I’d be glad to talk with him a bit before he goes.”

“Who said anything about hurrying him off?” cried Mrs. Bade.  “He can stay till doomsday, for all I care.  He can sit and talk to me, while you’re blowing on your flute.  It’ll be real companionable.”

And she turned back to her pots and pans, a faint smile causing her mouth to curl down at one end, and up at the other.

Mr. Jeminy awoke in the afternoon.  It was the nature of this kind and simple man to accept without question the hospitality of people he had never seen before; for he felt friendly toward every one.  As he sat down to supper with the Bades, he bowed his head, and offered up a grace, with all his heart: 

“Abide, O Lord, in this house; and be present at the breaking of bread, in love and in kindness.  Amen.”

During the meal, Aaron Bade asked Mr. Jeminy many questions, to discover what the old man hoped to do.  “I suppose,” he said, “you’ve come a good distance.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Jeminy gravely, “I have come a good distance.”

Aaron Bade gave his wife a look which said plainly, “There, you see, mother.”

“Where is your home, old man?” asked Mrs. Bade kindly.

“I have no home,” said Mr. Jeminy.

Aaron Bade cleared his throat.  “Are you bound anywhere in particular?” he asked.

“No,” said Mr. Jeminy.

“Then,” said Aaron Bade, “we’d admire to have you stay with us, if it’s agreeable to you.”