Everyone except Todd laughed frankly at this retort.  Uncle John put two silver dollars in Mrs. Todd’s chubby hand and told Thomas to drive on.

“I dunno,” remarked old Hucks, when they were out of earshot, “whether that feller’s jest a common tramp or a workman goin’ over to the paper mill at Royal.  Jedgin’ from the fact as he had money I guess he’s a workman.”

“Wrong, Thomas, quite wrong,” said Beth, seated just behind him.  “Did you notice his hands?”

“No, Miss Beth.”

“They were not rough and the fingers were slender and delicate.”

“That’s the mark of a cracksman,” said Arthur Weldon, with a laugh.  “If there are any safes out here that are worth cracking, I’d say look out for the gentleman.”

“His face isn’t bad at all,” remarked Patsy, reflectively.  “Isn’t there any grade between a workman and a thief?”

“Of course,” asserted Mr. Merrick, in his brisk way.  “This fellow, shabby as he looked, might be anything—­from a strolling artist to a gentleman down on his luck.  But what’s the news, Thomas?  How are Ethel and Joe?”

“Mr. an’ Mrs. Wegg is quite comf’t’ble, sir, thank you,” replied old Hucks, with a show of eagerness.  “Miss Ethel’s gran’ther, ol’ Will Thompson, he’s dead, you know, an’ the young folks hev fixed up the Thompson house like a palace.  Guess ye’d better speak to ’em about spendin’ so much money, Mr. Merrick; I’m ’fraid they may need it some day.”

“Don’t worry.  They’ve a fine income for life, Thomas, and there will be plenty to leave to their children—­if they have any.  But tell me about the mill at Royal.  Where is Royal, anyhow?”

“Four mile up the Little Bill Creek, sir, where the Royal Waterfall is.  A feller come an’ looked the place over las’ year an’ said the pine forest would grind up inter paper an’ the waterfall would do the grindin’.  So he bought a mile o’ forest an’ built a mill, an’ they do say things is hummin’ up to the new settlement.  There’s more’n two hundred hands a-workin’ there, a’ready.”

“Goodness me!” cried Patsy; “this thing must have livened up sleepy old Millville considerably.”

“Not yet,” said Hucks, shaking his head.  “The comp’ny what owns the mill keeps a store there for the workmen, an’ none of ’em come much to Millville.  Our storekeepers is madder’n blazes about it; but fer my part I’m glad the two places is separated.”

“Why?” asked Louise.

“They’re a kinder tough lot, I guess.  Turnin’ pine trees inter paper mus’ be a job thet takes more muscle than brains.  I don’t see how it’s done, at all.”

“It’s simple enough,” said Mr. Merrick.  “First the wood is ground into pulp, and then the pulp is run through hot rollers, coming out paper.  It’s a mighty interesting process, so some day we will all go to Royal and see the paper made.”

“But not just yet, Uncle,” remarked Patsy.  “Let’s have time to settle down on the farm and enjoy it.  Oh, how glad I am to be back in this restful, sleepy, jumping-off-place of the world again!  Isn’t it delightful, Arthur Weldon?  Did you ever breathe such ozony, delicious mountain air?  And do you get the fragrance of the pine forests, and the—­the—­”