“Nor I. But here we are.  Yonder’s Barton’s house.  Will you get out?”

“Yes.”

Abner, who was sitting on a stump, no sooner saw the team stop than he ran into the house, in some excitement, to tell the news.

“Marm,” he said, “there’s a team stopped, and there’s a man and boy gettin’ out; ’spect they’re coming here.”

“Lord’s sake!  Who be they?”

“Dunno.”

“Well, go out and tell ’em I’ll see’ em in a minute.”

Abner met them in front of the house.

“Are you Joel Barton’s son?” asked Ford.

“That’s what the old man says,” returned Abner, with a grin.

“Is your mother at home?”

“Marm will be right out.  She’s slickin’ up.  Who be you?”

“You’ll know in good time, my boy.”  “Who’s he?  Is he your son?”

“No,” answered Herbert promptly.

Willis Ford turned upon his young ward with a frown.  He understood the boy’s tone.

“It will be time to speak when you are spoken to,” he said sharply.

“Here’s marm’” said Abner, as his mother’s tall figure appeared in the doorway.

CHAPTER XXVIII

HERBERT IS PROVIDED WITH A NEW HOME

Mrs. Barton regarded the newcomers with a wondering stare.

“Did you want to see Joel?” she asked.

“I shall be glad to see him in due time, Mrs. Barton,” returned Willis Ford, with unwonted politeness; “but I came principally to see you.”

“Who be you?” inquired Mrs. Barton, unceremoniously; “I don’t know you no more’n the dead.”

“There is a slight connection between us, however.  I am the stepson of Pauline Estabrook, of New York, who is a cousin of yours.”

“You don’t say Pauline is your mother?” ejaculated the lady of the house.  “Well, I never expected to see kith or kin of hers out here.  Is that your son?”

“No, Mrs. Barton; but he is under my charge.”

Herbert was about to disclaim this, but an ominous frown from Willis Ford intimidated him.

“My name is Willis Ford; his is Sam Green.”

Herbert’s eyes opened wide with astonishment at this statement.

“My name is—­” he commenced.

“Silence!” hissed Ford, with a menacing look.  “You must not contradict me.”

“I s’pose I ought to invite you to stay here,” said Mrs. Barton, awkwardly; “but he’s so shif-less, and such a poor provider, that I ain’t got anything in the house fit for dinner.”

“Thank you,” returned Ford, with an inward shudder.  “I shall dine at the hotel; but I have a little business matter to speak of, Mrs. Barton, and I would wish to speak in private.  I will come into the house, with your permission, and we will leave the two boys together.”

“Come right in,” said Mrs. Barton, whose curiosity was aroused.  “Here, you Abner, just take care of the little boy.”