e highroad.

IX

On his way to The Greenbush he overtook Joel Quimber, and without
warning linked his arm close in the old man's. At the sudden contact
Joel started.

"Uncle Jo, old chap, how are you? This seems like home to see you
round."

"Lord bless me, Champ, how you come on a feller! Here, stan' still till
I get a good look at ye;--growed, growed out of all notion. Why, I
hain't seen ye for good two year. You warn't to home last summer?"

"Only for a week; I was off on a yachting cruise most of the time.
Mother said you were up on the Bay then at your grandniece's--pretty
girl. I remember you had her down here one Christmas."

The old man made no definite answer, but cackled softly to himself:
"Yachting cruise, eh? And you remember a pretty girl, eh?" He nudged him
with a sharpened elbow and whispered mysteriously: "Devil of a feller,
Champ! I've heerd tell, I've heerd tell--chip of the old block, eh?" He
nudged him knowingly again.

"Oh, we're all devils more or less, we men, Uncle Jo; now, honor bright,
aren't we?"

"You've hit it, Champ; more or less--more or less. I heerd you was
a-goin' it strong: primy donny suppers an' ortermobillies--"

"Now, Uncle Jo, you know there's no use believing all you hear, but you
can't plunge a country raised boy into a whirlpool like New York for
four years and not expect him to strike out and swim with the rest.
You've got to, Uncle Jo, or you're nobody. You'd go under."

"Like 'nough you would, Champ; I can't say, fer I hain't ben thar. Guess
twixt you an' me an' the post, I won't hev ter go thar sence Aurory's
sold the land fer the quarries. I hear it talked thet it'll bring half
New York right inter old Flamsted; I dunno, I dunno--you 'member 'bout
the new wine in the old bottles, Champ?--highflyers, emigrants, Dagos
and Polacks--Come ter think, Mis' Champney's got one on 'em now. Hev you
seen her, Champ?"

Champney's hearty laugh rang out with no uncertain sound. "Seen her! I
should say so. She's worth any 'primy donny', as you call them, that
ever drew a good silver dollar out of my pockets. Oh, it's too good to
keep! I must tell you; but you'll keep mum, Uncle Jo?"

"Mum's the word, ef yer say so, Champ." They turned from The Greenbush
and arm in arm paced slowly up the street again. From time to time, for
the next ten minutes, Augustus Buzzby and the Colonel in the tavern
office heard from up street such unwonted sounds of hilarity and so long
continue