noon. Why not sit down here with me
and have a bit of luncheon?"

"Why not?" he responded with alacrity. "As the fellow said, why not?"

He unhitched his horse, gave him a drink from the brook, and then
tethered him where he could nip the roadside grass. I opened my bag and
explored the wonders of Mrs. Stanley's luncheon. I cannot describe the
absolutely carefree feeling I had. Always at home, when I would have
liked to stop at the roadside with a stranger, I felt the nudge of a
conscience troubled with cows and corn, but here I could stop where I
liked, or go on when I liked, and talk with whom I pleased, as long as I
pleased.

So we sat there, the brush-peddler and I, under the trees, and ate
Mrs. Stanley's fine luncheon, drank the clear water from the brook,
and talked great talk. Compared with Mr. Canfield I was a babe at
wandering--and equally at talking. Was there any business he had not
been in, or any place in the country he had not visited? He had sold
everything from fly-paper to threshing-machines, he had picked up a
large working knowledge of the weaknesses of human nature, and had
arrived at the age of sixty-six with just enough available cash to pay
the manufacturer for a new supply of brushes. In strict confidence, I
drew certain conclusions from the colour of his nose! He had once had
a family, but dropped them somewhere along the road. Most of our brisk
neighbours would have put him down as a failure--an old man, and nothing
laid by! But I wonder--I wonder. One thing I am coming to learn in this
world, and that is to let people haggle along with their lives as I
haggle along with mine.

We both made tremendous inroads on the luncheon, and I presume we might
have sat there talking all the afternoon if I had not suddenly bethought
myself with a not unpleasant thrill that my resting-place for the night
was still gloriously undecided.

"Friend," I said, "I've got to be up and going. I haven't so much as a
penny in my pocket, and I've got to find a place to sleep."

The effect of this remark upon Mr. Canfield was magical. He threw up
both his hands and cried out:

"You're that way, are you?"--as though for the first time he really
understood. We were at last on common ground.

"Partner," said he, "you needn't tell nothin' about it. I've been right
there myself."

At once he began to bustle about with great enthusiasm. He was for
taking complete charge of me, and I think, if I had permitted it, wou