"I don't know that he has," was her quick reply. "At least, the neighbors blame me for selling the old place to such a man. They know I didn't need the money. And Yancey Battick certainly ain't what you can call with truth a good neighbor. We count on getting good neighbors into the Pringleton district if we can. That is why I was so glad to sell Sunnyside to Mr. Bronson. "And do you really mean to tell me that you spent the night with Mr. Battick?" she added. "And he did not eat me up," laughed Hiram. "Well! All I've got to say, young man, is that you're a regular Daniel. You'd find it cozy and comfortable, I guess, in a lion's den. Never heard of anybody's even getting inside of the old house before since Battick got into it. He _did_ let you inside, didn't he?" "I don't look as though I had stayed out on that leaky old porch of his, do I?" asked Hiram, still much amused. "You're as dry as a bone, as I said before." "Not only did he entertain me for supper and breakfast, but he gave me his own bed in which to sleep." "For the land's sake!" Miss Pringle shook her head in wonder. Then her brown eyes suddenly snapped. All the inquisitiveness in the woman's nature came to the surface; perhaps it was her single sin. "What's he got in that house he's so afraid the neighbors might see, Mr. Strong?" "I did not see anything particularly mysterious--nothing at all," Hiram assured her. "Not a thing? Wasn't he trying to hide anything from you? Didn't he seem afraid of anything?" "He certainly has a great fear of rats," Hiram admitted, answering her second query but avoiding the first. "And he has good reason to. He shot a big fellow right there in the house while we sat before the fire." "You don't say!" "If it was me I'd get me a weasel and turn him loose in the house and then pour cement and broken glass in the rat holes." "He knew the rats were there when he bought the old homestead," declared Miss Pringle defensively. "And I guess he has a right to shoot them if he wishes to," laughed Hiram. "But he is too promiscuous with his shotgun," declared the woman, shaking her head. "Well, now, Mr. Strong, I'm sorry you did not reach my house. I--and Abigail Wentworth who lives with me--would have been glad to put you up. But I am glad you made out as well as you did at Mr. Battick's. I'm glad to know he's not so bad as we all thought him." "Perhaps the neighbors haven't approached him just right," Hiram suggested. "He wishes to be let alone." "Then there is something wrong with him," Miss Pringle declared. "Something that he's ashamed of." "You are jumping at a conclusion there, that may not be correct," Hiram said. "At any rate I saw nothing really wrong with Mr. Battick. And I feel grateful for his hospitality." "Well, now, Mr. Strong," the woman said quickly, "you bring your bag right over to the house and stop with me till Mr. Bronson can make other arrangements for you."