"That butter tastes like old times," said Robert. "It's fresh. It's really butter." They made a hearty meal, and the boys, being filled up, grew sleepy. After they were put to bed Robert said, "Now, Mate, let's go see the house." They walked out arm in arm like lovers. Her sturdy form steadied him, though he would not have acknowledged it. The red flush was not yet gone from the west, and the hills still kept a splendid tone of purple-black. It was very clear, the stars were out, the wind deliciously soft. "Isn't it still?" Robert almost whispered. They walked on under the budding trees up the hill, till they came at last to the small frame house set under tall maples and locust-trees, just showing a feathery fringe of foliage. "This is our home," said Robert. Mate leaned on the gate in silence. Frogs were peeping. The smell of spring was in the air. There was a magnificent repose in the hour, restful, recreating, impressive. "Oh, it's beautiful, Robert! I know we shall like it." "We must like it," he said. II First contact with the people disappointed Robert. In the work of moving in he had to do with people who work at day's work, and the fault was his more than theirs. He forgot that they did not consider their work degrading. They resented his bossing. The drayman grew rebellious. "Look a-here, my Christian friend, if you'll go 'long in the house and let us alone it'll be a good job. We know what we're about." This was not pleasant, and he did not perceive the trouble. In the same way he got foul of the carpenter and the man who ploughed his garden. Some way his tone was not right. His voice was cold and distant. He generally found that the men knew better than he what was to be done and how to do it; and sometimes he felt like apologizing, but their attitude had changed till apology was impossible. He had repelled their friendly advances because he considered them (without meaning to do so) as workmen, and not as neighbors. They reported, therefore, that he was cranky and rode a high horse. "He thinks he's a little tin god on wheels," the drayman said. "Oh, he'll get over that," said McLane. "I knew the boy's folks years ago--tiptop folks, too. He ain't well, and that makes him a little crusty." "That's the trouble--he thinks he's an upper crust," said Jim Cullen, the drayman. At the end of ten days they were settled, and nothing remained to do but plan a little garden and--get well. The boys, with their unspoiled natures, were able to melt into the ranks of the village-boy life at once, with no more friction than was indicated by a couple of rough-and-tumble fights. They were sturdy fellows, like their mother, and these fights gave them high rank.