grandpa
'll take me in."

"Of course grandpa 'll take you in."

And then, as mothers will, especially surprised mothers, she fell on
his neck and kissed him, and smiled through her tears.

"Well, I dunno," said Grandpa Walker, facetiously, balancing a
good-sized morsel of food carefully on the blade of his knife, "that
depen's on wuther ye're willin' to take pot-luck with us or not."

"I'm willing to take anything with you," replied Pen, "if you'll give
me a home till I can shift for myself."

He went around the table and kissed his grandmother who had, for
years, been partially paralyzed, shook hands with his Uncle Joseph and
Aunt Miranda, and greeted their little brood of offspring cheerfully.

"What's happened to ye, anyhow?" asked Grandpa Walker when the
greetings were over and a place had been prepared for Pen at the
table. "Dick Butler kick ye out; did he?"

"Not exactly," was the reply. "But he told me I couldn't stay there
unless I did a certain thing, and I didn't do it--I couldn't do
it--and so I came away."

"Jes' so. That's Dick Butler to a T. Ef ye don't give him his own way
in everything he aint no furder use for ye. Well, eat your dinner now,
an' tell us about it later."

So Pen ate his dinner. He was hungry, and, for the time being at
least, the echo of that awful hiss was not ringing in his ears. But
they would not let him finish eating until he had told them, in
detail, the cause of his coming. He made the story as brief as
possible, neither seeking to excuse himself nor to lay the blame on
others.

"Well," was Grandpa Walker's comment when the recital was finished, "I
dunno but what ye done all right enough. They ain't one o' them blame
little scalawags down to Chestnut Valley, but what deserves a good
thrashin' on gen'al principles. They yell names at me every time I go
down to mill, an' then cut an' run like blazes 'fore I can git at 'em
with a hoss-whip. I'm glad somebody's hed the grace to wallop 'em. And
es for Dick Butler; he's too allfired pompous an' domineerin' for
anybody to live with, anyhow. Lets on he was a great soldier! Humph!
I've known him--"

"Hush, father!"

It was Pen's mother who spoke. The old man turned toward her abruptly.

"You ain't got no call," he said, "to stick up for Dick Butler."

"I know," she replied. "But he's Pen's grandfather, and it isn't nice
to abuse him in Pen's presence."

"Well, mebbe that's so."

He rose from the table, got his pipe fr