"
"Where is that?" asked Sam.
"Up the road a piece," and the old lady motioned with her head as she
spoke. "But now, if my son Jimmie was in that accident--"
"Good day, madam," said Dick and walked away, and Sam and Tom did the
same. The old lady continued to call after them, but they paid no
attention.
"Poor Jimmie! If he isn't killed in a railroad accident, he'll be
talked to death some day," was Sam's comment.
"Don't you care. We know that Jimmie's got a wart, anyway," observed
Tom, and he said this so dryly his brothers had to laugh. "Always add
to your fund of knowledge when you can," he added, in imitation of his
Uncle Randolph.
"I hope we have better success at the next farmhouse," said Sam.
"I don't know that I want to walk all the way to Ashton with this
dress-suit case."
"Oh, we're bound to find some kind of a rig at one place or another,"
said Dick. "All the folks can't be like that old woman."
They walked along the road until they came in sight of a second
farmhouse, also set in among trees and bushes. A neat gravel path,
lined with rose bushes, ran from the gate to the front piazza.
"This looks nice," observed Sam. "Some folks of the better sort must
live here."
The three boys walked up to the front piazza and set down their
baggage. On the door casing was an electric push button.
"No old-fashioned knocker here," observed Dick as he gave the button a
push.
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