Atkins, his face flaming, roared after him a profane opinion concerning his actions.

Then he went into the kitchen, slamming the door with a bang.
Some twenty minutes later the helper heard his name shouted from the top of the bluff.
"Mr.Brown! I say! Ahoy there, Mr.Brown! Come up here a minute, won't ye ?" Brown clambered up the path.

A little man, with grey throat whiskers, and wearing an antiquated straw hat, the edge of the brim trimmed with black braid, was standing waiting for him.
"Sorry to trouble you, Mr.Brown," stammered the little man, "but you be Mr.Brown, ain't you ?" "I am.

Yes." "Well, I cal'lated you was.

My name's Stover, Abijah Stover.