As Jim talked, he found he was getting angry, and that the refractory hair that covered his poll began to feel hot.  It would not do to betray his feelings, so he ended his sally with a huge laugh that had about as much music and heartiness in it as the caw of a crow.  Buffum joined him with his wheezy chuckle, but having sense enough to see that Jim had really been pained, he explained that he kept his paupers as well as he could afford to.

“Oh, I know it,” said Jim.  “If there’s anything wrong about it, it don’t begin with you, Buffum, nor it don’t end with you; but it seems a little rough to a feller like me to see people shut up, an’ in the dark, when there’s good breathin’ an’ any amount o’ sunshine to be had, free gratis for nothin’.”

“Well, they don’t know the difference,” said Buffum.

“Arter a while, I guess they don’t,” Jim responded; “an’, now, what’s the damage? for I’ve got to go ’long.”

“I sha’n’t charge you anything,” whispered Mr. Buffum.  “You hav’n’t said anything about old Tilden, and it’s just as well.”

Jim winked, nodded, and indicated that he not only understood Mr. Buffum, but would act upon his hint.  Then he went into the house, bade good-bye to Mr. Buffum’s “women,” kissed his hand gallantly to the elder Miss Buffum, who declared, in revenge, that she would not help him on with his pack, although she had intended to do so, ands after having gathered his burdens, trudged off northward.

From the time he entered the establishment on the previous evening, he had not caught a glimpse of Harry Benedict.  “He’s cute,” said Jim, “an’ jest the little chap for this business.”  As he came near the stump over the brow of the hill, behind which the poor-house buildings disappeared, he saw first the brim of an old hat, then one eye, then an eager, laughing face, and then the whole trim little figure.  The lad was transformed.  Jim thought when he saw him first that he was a pretty boy, but there was something about him now that thrilled the woodsman with admiration.

Jim came up to him with:  “Mornin,’ Harry!” and the mountain that shone so gloriously in the light before him, was not more sunny than Jim’s face.  He sat down behind the stump without removing his pack, and once more had the little fellow in his arms.

“Harry,” said Jim, “I’ve had ye in my arms all night—­a little live thing—­an’ I’ve be’n a longin’ to git at ye agin.  If ye want to, very much, you can put yer arms round my neck, an’ hug me like a little bar.  Thar, that’s right, that’s right.  I shall feel it till I see ye agin.  Ye’ve been thinkin’ ’bout what I telled ye last night?”

“Oh yes!” responded the boy, eagerly, “all the time.”

“Well, now, do you know the days—­Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and the rest of ’em?”

“Yes, sir, all of them.”

“Now, remember, to-day is Wednesday.  It will be seven days to next Wednesday, then Thursday will be eight, Friday, nine, Saturday, ten.  You always know when Saturday comes, don’t ye?”