"Where did you come from, then?" continued Aunt Liddy, undaunted by the short answer. "California." "Do tell! Guess you've been one of the rovin' sort, ain't you?" "Haven't done much else." "It don't appear to have agreed with you remarkable well," said the blunt old lady, peering at him over her spectacles. "If I hadn't had the devil's own luck, I'd have been a rich man, instead of a beggar," answered the tramp, with a grim look and an ireful knitting of his black brows. "Been unfort'nate, have you? I'm sorry for that; but it 'pears to me them as stays to home and works stiddy does better than them that goes huntin' after luck," observed Aunt Liddy, feeling it her duty to give a word of advice. "Shouldn't wonder if you were right, ma'am. But some folks haven't got any home to stay in; and fellows of my sort have to hunt after luck, for it won't come to 'em." "Ain't you got no friends, young man?" "Not one. Lost the last yesterday." "Took suddin, I suppose?" and the old lady's face was full of interest as she put the question. "Drowned." "Merciful sakes! How did it happen?" "Got hurt, couldn't be cured, so I drowned him, and"-- "What!" shrieked Aunt Liddy, upsetting her footstool with a horrified start. "Only a dog, ma'am. I couldn't carry him, wouldn't leave him to suffer; so put him out of pain and came on alone." The tramp had ceased eating, and sat with his head on his hand in a despondent attitude, that told his story better than words. His voice was gruffer than ever as he spoke of his dog; but the last word was husky, and he put his hand on Bran's head with a touch that won the good creature's heart entirely, and made him lick the downcast face, with a little whine of sympathy and satisfaction. Letty's eyes were full, and Aunt Liddy took snuff and settled her footstool, feeling that something must be done for one who showed signs of being worth the saving. "Poor creter! And you was fond of him?" she said in a motherly tone; for the man of five or six and twenty was but a boy to her. "I'd have been a brute if I wasn't fond of him, for he stuck to me when all the other fellows cut me, and tried to drag himself along with a broken leg, rather than leave me. Talk about friends! Give me a dumb animal if you want one worth having." A bitter tone was in the man's voice and a wrathful spark kindled in his eyes, as if wrong as well as want had made him what he was. "Rest a little, and tell us about California. A neighbor went there, and we like to hear news of that great, splendid place." Letty spoke, and the half-eager, half-timid voice was very winning, especially to one who seldom heard such now. Seeing her kindly interest, and glad to pay for his meal in the only way he could, the man told some of his adventures in brief but graphic words, while the old woman plied him with questions and the young one listened with a face so full of pretty wonder that the story-teller was inspired to do his best.