the seat. He turned a sullen face on Frank. There was dark suspicion and open animosity in his eyes.
"Far enough," he muttered.
"It's pleasant weather, isn't it?" propounded Frank, bound to be companionable.
"Say," said the boy, staring pugnaciously at our hero, "trying to pick on me, are you?"
"Why," answered the astonished Frank, "I never dreamed of such a thing."
"Yes, you did! Lemme alone!"
"All right," returned Frank pleasantly. "Only here's an orange and a funny book I want you to enjoy," and he placed the articles in question beside the boy and stepped back to his own seat.
As he did so he met the big round face of the farmer on a broad grin. The latter turned around and accosted him.
"Not very sociable, hey?" he remarked.
"Oh, I probably seem strange to him," observed Frank.
"He's that way all along," declared the farmer. "If he is my son, I say it."
"You are his father, then?"
"The only one he's got," replied the farmer. "You see, I married his mother. She's dead, now. That boy always was a sulky, ugly varmint. Why, he'd ought to be the happiest critter in Christendom. He's got eight step-brothers and step-sisters.
