A report, to be sure, did come from the village, far up the mountain, that such a man and boy had lived in a hut that was almost inaccessible; but even this did not help solve the mystery.
David was left at the Holly farmhouse, though Simeon Holly mentally declared that he should lose no time in looking about for some one to take the boy away.
On that first day Higgins, picking up the reins preparatory to driving from the yard, had said, with a nod of his head toward David:-- "Well, how about it, Holly?
Shall we leave him here till we find somebody that wants him ?" "Why, y--yes, I suppose so," hesitated Simeon Holly, with uncordial accent.
But his wife, hovering in the background, hastened forward at once.
"Oh, yes; yes, indeed," she urged.

"I'm sure he--he won't be a mite of trouble, Simeon." "Perhaps not," conceded Simeon Holly darkly.

"Neither, it is safe to say, will he be anything else--worth anything." "That's it exactly," spoke up Streeter, from his seat in the wagon.

"If I thought he'd be worth his salt, now, I'd take him myself; but--well, look at him this minute," he finished, with a disdainful shrug.
David, on the lowest step, was very evidently not hearing a word of what was being said.

With his sensitive face illumined, he was again poring over his father's letter.
Something in the sudden quiet cut through his absorption as the noisy hum of voices had not been able to do, and he raised his head.