He had an enormous bag, but as yet, there was only a little in it. Fabens approached him, called him _neighbor_ Troffater, got hold of his hiding hand, and shook it with a frank and earnest grasp, that would have hurt a tenderer palm, and inquired after his health and that of his family. Troffater straightened, and swelled, and blowed; and cocked and crossed his black and blue eyes; but answered not a word. Now was the time to test the power of kindness, and he gave it a trial. He was glad, he said, that he happened to come with a light, for it was very difficult to measure wheat in the dark; and began himself to fill up the bag. Troffater looked more sullen and evil for a while, but he soon began to wilt, and open his mouth with apologies. He declared, as true as he lived, he would not have taken over half a bushel, and would have returned again every kernel he borrowed. Fabens replied that it would grieve him to know that any neighbor of his was in need of what he could so easily spare; and for fear Troffater might suffer, and be tempted again to do what must be so painful to his heart, he filled the large bag and tied it, saying, "There neighbor Troffater, you are very welcome to that bag-full." He insisted, however, that Troffater should go into the house, and see his folks, and take supper with them. The bolt of a galvanic battery could not have convulsed the little culprit with a more terrible shock than such a word; he looked as though he would slink through the floor, and actually craved a blow to brace up his nerves, and knit his joints, and rally his skulking spirit. He begged permission to be gone immediately. But no, he could not get off with so light a punishment. He must go in and see Mrs. Fabens and Fanny, and take supper with them. He dared not disobey, and he trudged sneakingly in like a whipped spaniel. "O, it is Mr. Troffater come to see us!" said Mrs. Fabens, smiling a kind welcome as he entered the door. "We were wondering who it could be with Mr. Fabens in the barn-yard. How do you do, Mr. Troffater? How is Mrs. Troffater? and how are the family? It is such a pleasant evening, why did not Mrs. Troffater come over with you and spend the evening? She has not made me a visit in a long, long while." "How are Ruth and Josephine? Did I not see them crossing our pasture towards Mr. Teezle's to-day? I hope they have not forgotten that they owe me a visit," said Fanny, with a voice more musical than the meadowlark's, and a smile more gentle and subduing than the moonlight melting on the wall.