"Not a blessed thing to burgle. Never has been for years."

There was a silence. The girl spoke in a hushed voice.

"I--understand," said she, "that the people here hold the man who used to live in this house responsible for that."

"Why, yes, I suppose he was. Brookville never would have been a Tuxedo under any circ.u.mstances, but I reckon it would have fared a little better if Mr. Bolton hadn't failed to see the difference between mine and thine. I was nothing but a kid, but I have heard a good deal about it. Some of the older people are pretty bitter, and some of the younger ones have it in their veins. I suppose the poor man did start us down hill."

"You say 'poor man'; why?" asked the girl and her voice trembled.

"Lord, yes. I'm like a hound sneaking round back doors for bones, on account of Mr. Bolton, myself. My father lost more than 'most anybody, but I wouldn't change places with the man. Say, do you know he has been in State's Prison for years?"

"Yes."

"Of course any man who does wrong is a poor man, even if he doesn't get caught. I'm mighty glad I wasn't born bitter as some of the people here were. My sister f.a.n.n.y isn't either. She doesn't have much, poor girl, but I've never heard her say one word, and mother never blames it on Mr. Bolton, either. Mother says he is getting his punishment, and it isn't for any of us to add to it."

"Your sister was that pretty girl at the flower table?"

"Yes--I suppose you would call her pretty. I don't really know. A fellow never does know, when the girl is his sister. She may look the best of the bunch to him, but he's never sure."

"She is lovely," said Lydia Orr. She pointed to the shadowy house.

"That must have been a nice place once."

"Best in the village; show place. Say, what in the name of common sense do you want to buy it for?"

"Who told you?"

"Oh, I met old Whittle just before I met you. He told me. The place must be terribly run down. It will cost a mint of money to get it in shape."

"I have considerable money," stated the girl quite simply.

"Well, it's none of my business, but you will have to sink considerable in that place, and perhaps when you are through it won't be satisfactory."

"I have taken a notion to it," said the girl. She spoke very shyly.

Her curiously timid, almost apologetic manner returned suddenly. "I suppose it does look strange," she added.

"n.o.body's business how it looks," said Jim, "but I think you ought to know the truth about it, and I think I am more likely to give you information than Whittle. Of course he has an ax to grind. Perhaps if I had an ax to grind, you couldn't trust me."

"Yes, I could," returned the girl with conviction. "I knew that the minute I looked at you. I always know the people I can trust. I know I could not trust Deacon Whittle. I made allowances, the way one does for a clock that runs too fast or too slow. I think one always has to be doing addition or subtraction with people, to understand them."

"Well, you had better try a little subtraction with me."

"I don't have to. I didn't mean with everybody. Of course there are exceptions. That was a beautiful skin you gave me. I didn't half thank you."

"Nonsense. I was glad to give it."

"Do you hunt much?"

"About all I am good for except to run our little farm and do odd jobs. I used to work in the chair factory."

"I shouldn't think you would have liked that."

"Didn't; had to do what I could."

"What would you like to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. I never had any choice, so I never gave it any thought. Something that would keep me out of doors, I reckon."

"Do you know much about plants and trees?"

"I don't know whether I know much; I love them, that's all."

"You could do some landscape gardening for a place like this, I should think."

Jim stared at her, and drew himself up haughtily. "It really is late, Miss Orr," he said. "I think, if you will allow me, I will take you home."

"What are you angry about?"

"I am not angry."

"Yes, you are. You are angry because I said that about landscape gardening."

"I am not a beggar or a man who undertakes a job he is not competent to perform, if I am poor."

"Will you undertake setting those grounds to rights, if I buy the place?"

"Why don't you hire a regular landscape man if you have so much money?" asked Jim rudely.

"I would rather have you. I want somebody I can work with. I have my own ideas. I want to hire you to work with me. Will you?"

"Time enough to settle that when you've bought the place. You must go home now. Here, take my arm. This sidewalk is an apology for one."

Lydia took the young man's arm obediently, and they began walking.

"What on earth are you going to do with all that truck you bought?"

asked Jim.

Lydia laughed. "To tell you the truth, I haven't the slightest idea,"

said she. "Pretty awful, most of it, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't give it house room."

"I won't either. I bought it, but I won't have it."

"You must take us for a pretty set of paupers, to throw away money like that."

"Now, don't you get mad again. I did want to buy it. I never wanted to buy things so much in my life."

"I never saw such a queer girl."

"You will know I am not queer some time, and I would tell you why now, but--"