omin' to hunt you," he said,
grinning, as they stood with gripped hands. "What made you so late?"

While Hawker confronted the supper the family sat about and contemplated
him with shining eyes. His sisters noted his tie and propounded some
questions concerning it. His mother watched to make sure that he should
consume a notable quantity of the preserved cherries. "He used to be so
fond of 'em when he was little," she said.

"Oh, Will," cried the younger sister, "do you remember Lil' Johnson?
Yeh? She's married. Married las' June."

"Is the boy's room all ready, mother?" asked the father.

"We fixed it this mornin'," she said.

"And do you remember Jeff Decker?" shouted the elder sister. "Well, he's
dead. Yep. Drowned, pickerel fishin'--poor feller!"

"Well, how are you gitting along, William?" asked the father. "Sell many
pictures?"

"An occasional one."

"Saw your illustrations in the May number of Perkinson's." The old man
paused for a moment, and then added, quite weakly, "Pretty good."

"How's everything about the place?"

"Oh, just about the same--'bout the same. The colt run away with me last
week, but didn't break nothin', though. I was scared, because I had out
the new buggy--we got a new buggy--but it didn't break nothin'. I'm
goin' to sell the oxen in the fall; I don't want to winter 'em. And then
in the spring I'll get a good hoss team. I rented th' back five-acre to
John Westfall. I had more'n I could handle with only one hired hand.
Times is pickin' up a little, but not much--not much."

"And we got a new school-teacher," said one of the girls.

"Will, you never noticed my new rocker," said the old mother, pointing.
"I set it right where I thought you'd see it, and you never took no
notice. Ain't it nice? Father bought it at Monticello for my birthday. I
thought you'd notice it first thing."

When Hawker had retired for the night, he raised a sash and sat by the
window smoking. The odour of the woods and the fields came sweetly to
his nostrils. The crickets chanted their hymn of the night. On the black
brow of the mountain he could see two long rows of twinkling dots which
marked the position of Hemlock Inn.

CHAPTER III.

Hawker had a writing friend named Hollanden. In New York Hollanden had
announced his resolution to spend the summer at Hemlock Inn. "I don't
like to see the world progressing," he had said; "I shall go to Sullivan
County for a time."

In the morning Hawker too