not notice the
detested nickname.

"Well, then," said Ham, "we'll see about it. You can sleep in the spare
chamber to-night. Mother Kinzer, I couldn't say enough about this house
business if I talked all night. It must have cost you a deal of money. I
couldn't have dared to ask it. I guess you'd better kiss me again."

Curious thing it was that came next. One that nobody could have reckoned
on. Mrs. Kinzer--good soul--had set her heart on having Ham's house and
Miranda's "ready for them" on their return, and now Ham seemed to be so
pleased about it she actually began to cry. She said, too: "I'm so sorry
about the barn!" But Ham only laughed in his quiet way as he kissed his
portly mother-in-law, and said:

"Come, mother Kinzer, you didn't set it afire. Can't Miranda and I have
some supper? Dab must be hungry, after all that roof-sweeping."

There had been a sharp strain on the nerves of all of them that day and
evening, and they were glad enough to gather around the tea-table, while
what was left of the old barn smoldered away, with the village boys on
guard. Once or twice Ham or Dab went out to make sure all was right, but
there was no danger, unless a high wind should come.

By this time the whole village was aware of Dabney's adventure with the
tramp, and it was well for that individual that he had walked fast and
far before suspicion settled on him, for men went out to seek for him on
foot and on horseback.

"He's a splendid fellow, anyway."

Odd, was it not, but Annie Foster and Jenny Walters were half a mile
apart when they both said that very thing, just before the clock in the
village church hammered out the news that it was ten and bed-time. They
were not speaking of the tramp.

It was long after that, however, before the lights were out in all the
rooms of the Morris mansion.

CHAPTER XVII.

Sleep?

One of the most excellent things in all the world, and very few people
get too much of it nowadays.

As for Dabney Kinzer, he had done his sleeping as regularly and
faithfully as even his eating, up to that very night after Ham Morris
came home to find the big barn afire. There had been a few, a very few
exceptions. There were the nights when he was expecting to go
duck-shooting before daylight, and waked up at midnight with a strong
conviction that he was already too late about starting. There were
perhaps a dozen or so of "eeling" expeditions which had kept him out
late enough for a full ba