"Ye won’t say a word about this to Tildy an’ Jess, will ye?" he asked. "They don’t seem to understand sich things. But you do, an’ that’s why I’ve said more to you than to anyone else."
"I’m good at keeping secrets, Mr. Andrews," was the reply, "and I thank you for your confidence."
"It’s them Denton kids I’m worryin’ about," Abner explained. "They should be put into a good home at once. I really don’t know what will become of ’em, to say nuthin’ about the widder."
They were in sight of Ash Point now, and Abner directed Belle’s attention to his house some distance ahead, nestling among the trees.
"It ain’t much of a place," he apologized, "but ye’ll git a hearty welcome, lots of room, an’ plenty of fresh air. It’s a mighty healthy place, if I do say it."
He paused and a peculiar expression suddenly lightened his face. He straightened himself up with a jerk, and brought the palm of his hand down upon his knee with a whack.
"Nuthin’ but a kink. I have it sometimes an’ it makes me kinder queer."
"That’s serious, isn’t it? What do you do for it?"
"Yep; a dandy idea. That’s what I’ve got. But here we are at home, an’ there’s Tildy an’ Jess waitin’ at the door."
It was a hot afternoon, and Zebedee Burns found the shade of the big maple near his workshop very refreshing. He was sitting with his back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes riveted upon the front page of _The Live Wire_, which the mailman had just left. So intent was he upon what he was reading that he did not notice a man walking toward him from the road. It was Abner, who, when a few yards away, stopped and stood for a few seconds studying his neighbor.
"Some people kin take life easy," Abner presently remarked. "Comes nat’ral, I guess."
Zebedee merely glanced at his visitor, and without a word continued his reading.
"What’s the news, Zeb?" Abner asked, coming close and squatting down upon the grass. "Must be mighty interestin’ by the way ye keep ye’r eyes glued upon that page."
Zebedee lowered the paper and looked quizzically at his companion.
"Say, Abner," he began, "what were ye doin’ yesterday?"
"What was I doin’ yesterday! What de ye mean? Wasn’t I Abner Andrews?"
"Ye couldn’t have been accordin’ to this mornin’s paper. Ye must have been one o’ them ancients ye’ve told me about so often, an’ a mighty savage one at that."