"You haven't informed me who the nabobs are，nor why they choose to be sidetracked in this forsaken stone—quarry，"remarked the stranger，eyeing the bleak hills around him in the growing light of dawn.
The agent hesitated.His first gruff resentment had been in a manner disarmed and he dearly loved to talk，especiallyon so interesting a subject as "the nabobs."He knew he could astonish the tramp，and the temptation to do so was too strong to resist.
"It's the great John Merrick，who's got millions to burnbut don't light many bon？res，"he began，not very graciously at ？rst."Two years ago he bought the Cap'n Wegg farm，over by Millville，an'—""Where's Millville？"inquired the man.
"Seven mile back in the hills.The farm ain't nuthin'but cobblestonea an'pine woods，but—""How big is Millville？""Quite a town.Eleven stores an'houses，'sides the mill an'a big settlement buildin'up at Royal，where the new paper millb is jest started.Royal's four mile up the Little Bill Hill.""But about the nabob—Mr.Merrick，I think you calledhim？""Yes；John Merrick.He bought the Cap'n Wegg place an'spent summer'fore last on it—him an'his three gals as is his nieces.""Oh；three girls.""Yes.Clever gals，too.Stirred things up some at Millville，I kin tell you，stranger.Lib'ral an'good—natured，but able to hold their own with the natives.We missed 'em，last year；but t'other day I seen ol'Hucks，that keeps their house for 'em—he 'n'his wife—an'Hucks said they was cumin'
to spend this summer at the farm an'he was lookin'fer 'em any day.The way they togged up thet farmhouse is somethin'won'erful，I'm told.Hain't seen it，myself，but a whole carload o'furnitoor—an'then some more—was shipped here from New York，an'Peggy McNutt，over t'Millville，says it must 'a'cost a for—tun'."The tramp nodded，somewhat listlesslya.
"I feel quite respectable this morning，having passed the night as the guest of a millionaire，"he observed."Mr.Merrick didn't know it，of course，or he would have invited me inside.""Like enough，"answered the agent seriously."The nabob's thet reckless an'unaccountable，he's likely to do worse ner that.That's what makes him an'his gals interestin'；nobody in quarries.How about breakfast，friend Judkins ？""That's my business an'not yours.My missusb never feeds tramps.""Rather ungracious to travelers，eh ？""Ef you're a traveler，go to the hoe—tel yonder an'buy your breakfas'like a man.""Thank you；I may follow your advice."The agent walked up the track and put out the semaphore lights，for the sun was beginning to rise over the hills.By the time he came back a colored porter stood on the platform of the private car and nodded to him.
"Folks up yit？"asked Judkins."Dressing，seh.""Goin'ter feed 'em in there？""Not dis mohnin'.Dey'll breakfas'at de hotel.Carriage here yit？""Not yit.I s'pose ol'Hucks'll drive over for 'em，"said the agent.
"Dey's 'spectin'some one，seh.As for me，I gotta liveheaha all day，an'it makes me sick teh think of it.""Heh！"retorted the agent，scornfully；"you won't git sick.You're too well paid fer that."The porter grinned，and just then a little old gentlemanwith a rosy，cheery face pushed him aside and trotted down the steps.
"Mornin'，Judkins！"he cried，and shook the agent'shand."What a glorious sunrise，and what crisp，delicious air ！Ah，but it's good to be in old Chazy County again！"The agent straightened up，his face wreathedb with smiles，and cast an "I told you so！"glance toward the man on the truck.But the stranger had disappeared.