warm July evening, and Benny espied the old man long before he got to him, sitting on a block of wood outside his hut, apparently buried in thought.
For a moment or two Benny stood before him without speaking, and Joe seemed utterly unconscious of his presence. Six years seemed to have passed very lightly over the old man's head. Benny could detect no change in his features ; he did not look a day older than he did the last time he saw him.
At length Benny said, in a hesitating tone of voice,
"Good evening, Mr. Wrag."
Joe started, but scarcely lifted his eyes to the intruder; then answered, after a pause—
"I'm none so much mister, as I knows on; I'm only plain Joe Wrag."
"This is a nice time of the year for you watchmen," said Benny, not knowing exactly what to say.
"Yes, it's purty fair; we don't git bothered quite so much wi' the youngsters as we do in the winter."
"And so the children bother you in the winter, do they?"
"Well, I don't know they bother me so much, arter all; only they like the fire, yer see, when the weather's cold."
"Just so; you'll get to know a great many children, I should think?"
"Oh, ay, a goodish few."
"Did you ever know a lad called Benny Bates?"
"Ay, yes, poor lad, I should think I did," said Joe, with
