once or twist a week for an hour or so in ther fruit 'n crop season. But I know more'n you do about men an' women. If you took an' knocked about the world for a lifetime, an' me rooted here, I'd know more about the world an' you do, Billy. Take my advice, an' talk to Bob quietly, an' tell him there's talk. There's other places where he'll do——where he'd be comfortable, I mean." And Brennan jerked impatiently and stood up at the same time. Billy began——
"Why, who the——has been—a——?"
"It's no use, Billy," said the silent man, with the clamp still on. "It's for your own good——an' some one else's. Now I've said it all."
"Do you mean——?"
"I don't mean—to say—one—more—word, Billy, You know me, Billy. I'm your friend in this."
Billy left, rubbing his head, bothered and worried on Bob's account, without yet understanding, and he concluded by wondering what on earth had come over Arthur Brennan. But Brennan was always a rum card.
But, strange to relate, that very week, and within such short times of each other that it fairly twirled poor little Billy's head, three of the other men gave or hinted or blurted out the same advice, according to their different "ways."
And on top of it all, and, of all men, Leonard, standing as described at his side-back-front gate (there was another leading out towards Halliford), called the passing Billy back, and, after an unwonted
