"They are both living and well; they speak of you at times," I said.

"Your disappearance grieved them.

I don't think they ever blamed you." His face worked strangely; his hands, grasping the hoe handle, shook; but still he said nothing.
"Have you ever had word from your folks at the old farm ?" I asked him at length.

"Have you had any news of them at all ?" He shook his head.

I then informed him that his son Jotham had died four years before; that Tom had gone abroad as an engineer; that Catherine was living at home, managing the old place and doing it well; that she had paid off the mortgage and was prospering.
He listened in silence; but his face worked painfully at times.
As I was speaking an elderly woman came to the door of the house and stood looking toward us.
"That is my wife," he said, noticing that I saw her.