There was the same little cot on which he had been wont to stretch his weary limbs after a hard day's work in the fields, and there were the same simple cooking utensils with which he had prepared many a meal for himself and the old professor.

Conditions certainly had improved wonderfully, and for the time being Dave forgot his trouble with Aaron Poole.

No one could again call him "a poorhouse nobody." From the cottage the boys walked to the barn.

As they entered this building they heard earnest talking in the rear.
"You are a mean lad, to tease an old man like me!" they heard, in Caspar Potts's quavering tones.

"Why cannot you go away and leave me alone ?" "Don't you call me mean!" came in Nat Poole's voice.