This gradual assuming of the rôle of benefactor was not entirely to Hiram’s taste, as his frown indicated, but the constant iteration of admiration for his shrewdness and good fortune was having its effect. The old grudge ached less. It was like having opodeldoc stuffed into a bad tooth. Hiram felt as though he would like to listen to a lot more of that comforting talk. Moreover, his showman’s heart was hungry for some of that association of the old days and for a chance to swap old stories. “Sime,” he cried with a heartiness that surprised even himself, “you’re a poor old devil that’s been abused, and you seem to be all in.” He surveyed the wheezy horse and kicked another spoke from the wheel. “Crack ’em down, crack ’em down, gents!” squalled the parrot. “If it wasn’t for Absalom, there, to holler that to me with an occasional ‘Hey, Rube!’ I don’t believe I could stay in this God-forsaken place fifteen minutes. There’s no one here that can talk about anything except ensilage and new-milk cows. Now, what say, Sime? Store your old traps along o’ mine, squat down and take it comfortable a little while. I reckon that you and me can find a few things to talk about that really amount to something.” The man on the van unhooked the reins from around his neck and let them fall to the ground. But he still hesitated to climb down. “I should hate to feel that I was a burden on you,” he faltered. “But if there’s any stutterers around here I might earn a little something on the side to help out on my board.” “Me with forty thousand in the bank takin’ board money from an old friend, or lettin’ a guest of mine graft for his livin’?” snorted Hiram. “Not by a blame sight! You just shut up and h’ist yourself down here and help me unharness old Polyponeesus.” Hiram introduced his guest to his brother with curt brevity. “And I guess I’ll do as you hinted this mornin’ about takin’ the other half of the house, Phin,” he said. “I don’t want any friends of mine to be underfoot for you. As long as you suggested splittin’ off, I’ll do it. Old Aunt What’s-Her-Name can do for both of us.” “I didn’t mean it that way, Hime,” said the Squire, earnestly. “Your friends are my friends and we can all get along comfortably together just as we are.” “I’d ruther have the side-show privilege than a share in the big show,” persisted the stubborn relative; “it’s your proposition, and I can take a hint.” The presence of Peak and his mute suggestion of the old associations were already having their effect on Hiram’s undisciplined temperament. He had begun to wonder before this if getting acquainted again with a brother after so many years was altogether a success. He had been a bit ashamed in spite of Phineas’s candid forgiveness; this calm, earnest, educated man made him feel ill at ease. Suddenly, he realised perfectly why he had clutched at this stroller and hauled him into this haven.