now, Nina's all upset. We won't talk about it.
Don't you cry, Nina. No old tramp won't get
you while Tony's here."

Mrs. Harling spoke up sternly. "Stop cry-
ing, Nina, or I'll always send you upstairs
when Antonia tells us about the country. Did
they never find out where he came from,
Antonia?"

"Never, mam. He hadn't been seen no-
where except in a little town they call Conway.
He tried to get beer there, but there wasn't
any saloon. Maybe he came in on a freight,
but the brakeman hadn't seen him. They
couldn't find no letters nor nothing on him;
nothing but an old penknife in his pocket and
the wishbone of a chicken wrapped up in a
piece of paper, and some poetry."

"Some poetry?" we exclaimed.

"I remember," said Frances. "It was 'The
Old Oaken Bucket,' cut out of a newspaper
and nearly worn out. Ole Iverson brought it
into the office and showed it to me."

"Now, wasn't that strange, Miss Frances?"
Tony asked thoughtfully. "What would any-
body want to kill themselves in summer for?
In thrashing time, too! It's nice everywhere
then."

[[204]]

p203 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p204w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p205

v?