“Come, Herbert,” he said; “let us go to the help of this poor woman.”

“With all my heart,” answered Herbert, his eyes flashing.

Before describing the appearance of Herbert and George Melville upon the scene, I will go back a few minutes and relate what happened at the farmhouse.

Mrs. Cole was engaged in ironing when she heard a knock at the door.

Answering the summons, she found herself confronted by an ill-looking fellow whose dusty and travel-soiled garments revealed the character of the wearer.

“What is it you wish?” asked the farmer’s wife.

“I’m hungry!” said the tramp.  “Can you give me something to eat?”

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Cole, cheerfully, for the good woman could not find it in her heart to turn away a fellow creature suffering from hunger.  “We have enough and to spare.  Come in, and sit down at the table.”

The visitor followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the table, while the farmer’s wife went to the pantry and brought out half a loaf of bread and a plate of cold meat.

The tramp was not long in attacking it, but after a few mouthfuls laid down his knife and fork.

“Where’s the coffee?” he asked.

“I have no warm coffee,” she answered.

“Don’t you drink coffee in the morning?”

“Yes, but breakfast was over two or three hours since.  Shall I get you a glass of water?”

“Haven’t you any cider?”

“It seems to me you are particular,” said Mrs. Cole, growing indignant.

“All the same I want some cider,” said the tramp, impudently.

“I have no cider,” answered Mrs. Cole, shortly.

“A pretty farmhouse this is, without cider,” growled the tramp.  “You can make me some coffee, then!”

“Who are you to order me round in my own house?” demanded Mrs. Cole, angrily.  “One would think you took this for a hotel.”

“I take it for what I please,” said the tramp.

“If my husband were here you wouldn’t dare to talk to me like this!”

It was an unguarded admission, made on the impulse of the moment, and Mrs. Cole felt its imprudence as soon as she had uttered the words, but it was too late to recall them.

“Where is your husband?” asked the tramp, his face lighting up with a gleam of exultation.

“Near by,” answered Mrs. Cole, evasively; but her visitor saw that this was not correct.

“How much money have you in the house?” he demanded, abruptly.

“Money?” gasped the farmer’s wife, turning pale.

“Yes, money!  Didn’t I speak plain enough?” asked the tramp, angrily.

“Are you a thief, then?”

“Don’t you dare to call me a thief!” said the tramp, menacingly.

“Then, if you are an honest man, why do you ask that question?”

“Because I am going to borrow what money you have.”

“Borrow!”