When Tommy, his trousers restored, came down to tea he was warned not to go clamping about in his boots, because there was a gentleman in the parlor. Tommy fingered the sixpence in his pocket and said nothing; his mouth was, indeed, far too full for words. That evening in the parched orchard behind the house Tommy came edging shyly toward the stranger as he lounged under the trees smoking a fat pipe. "Hullo, young man!" was the greeting. "Come here and talk to me." Tommy dumbly drew near. "Got your trousers back, I see," said the stranger, genially. Tommy admitted it with a grunt. The stranger nodded and took his pipe out of his mouth. "Ever see a pig?" he asked. Tommy grunted again. "I see you have. You speak their language awfully well." The stranger uttered a sound which Tommy recognized and smiled to hear. "That's what the pigs say," said the stranger. "Agreeable little boys who have recovered their trousers say 'Yes' or 'No' when their friends ask them questions. Don't they?" "I dun'no'," said Tommy. "Oh yes, you do. Because I've told you. Now what would you like to do?" "I dun'no'." "I can't tell you that you know, because I don't know myself. But I'll put it to you like this: If you can make up your mind to talk the language of agreeable little boys who have recovered their trousers, I am disposed to endure your company and even to assist you in any play you may have in hand. But I can't associate with a person who grunts at me. If you want to grunt, go and grunt at some one who likes it. I don't." "I didn't go for to," Tommy urged. "Handsomely admitted. I accept your apology. You don't know what you'd like to do, I say. Well, is there anything you'd like to _have_? I'm living the idle life, Tommy, and my hands are beginning to ache for want of something to do. I want to make something. Ever make anything?" "I made a rabbit-hutch, onst," Tommy owned, "but the door warn't straight on her hinges. And I tried a kite--but it stuck to me and come to bits afore ever it was dry." "Look here," said the stranger, sitting up, "what about a kite? I could make you a kite as big as a house or a fire-balloon. Would you like that?" Tommy began a grunt, pretended that it had been a cough, and turned that into, "Yes, please, sir." "We must restrain Charles," said the stranger, turning to the large white dog, who sat with feet firmly planted, smiling a wide, pink smile, "or this kite will certainly stick to _him_ and come to pieces afore _it's_ dry. Where's the shop?" "Down street," said Tommy. "I could pop down street in a minute for the paper and things." "Sure you'd rather have a kite than anything else?" Tommy hesitated, and then said of course he'd rather have a hairyplane, but he supposed the stranger couldn't.