Sinton led the boy into the house, and lifted him to a mirror.
"My, I'm purty good-looking, ain't I?" bragged Billy. Then as Sinton stooped to set him on the floor Billy's lips passed close to the big man's ear and hastily whispered a vehement "No!" as he ran for the door.
"How long until supper, Margaret?" asked Sinton as he followed.
"You are going to keep him for supper?" she asked.
"Sure!" said Sinton. "That's what I brought him for. It's likely he never had a good square meal of decent food in his life. He's starved to the bone."
Margaret rose deliberately, removed the white cloth from the supper table and substituted an old red one she used to wrap the bread. She put away the pretty dishes they commonly used and set the table with old plates for pies and kitchen utensils. But she fried the chicken, and was generous with milk and honey, snowy bread, gravy, potatoes, and fruit.
Sinton repainted the scratched wheel. He mended the fence, with Billy holding the nails and handing the pickets. Then he filled the old hole, digged a new one, and set the hitching post.
Billy hopped on one foot at his task of holding the post steady as the earth was packed around it. There was not the shadow of a trouble on his little freckled face. Sinton threw in stones and pounded the earth solid around the post. The sound of a gulping sob attracted him to Billy. The tears were rolling down his
