the visitor calmly entered, followed the noise, and presented himself before the gaze of the astonished, suddenly quieted lads.
"Hello, youngsters, hard at it?" demanded the stranger, playfully.
"Hop-toad, leap-frog; having frolics," answered Harry, boldly, while his brothers, the twins, clung together and looked anxiously at the man.
"Nice game. Used to play it myself, when I was a little shaver. Don't know but I might be persuaded to try it again, if I was invited," said the unknown visitor.
None of the trio responded to this suggestion, nor was the game resumed. The three children stood utterly silent, regarding the gentleman with the intensely critical gaze of childhood which pretence finds so disconcerting. The stranger felt as if six gimlets were boring their way through his outward amiability to the vexation beneath; a vexation that he had allowed himself to come so far out of his way to find a man who could not possibly reside in such a hovel. None the less, since
