He stepped to the door and addressed her. “Madame, will you take a boarder? I'm going to do your husband's work on the job yonder. I will pay liberally. In your present difficulties the money may help. I'll be small trouble.” “We need the money terribly,” she said, after pondering. “Yes, I will take you. In the face you do not look like a tramp!” “I thank you,” said Farr. “If you will give me some food in my hands I'll take myself out of your way.” That afternoon Jared Chick came over the hill where the trowels clinked and the great derrick complained with its pulleys. He carried his armor on his back. He stopped and watched for some time his former companion of the road, who was sweating over his man's toil. “May I have sixty seconds off to speak with that man yonder?” Farr asked the contractor. “It partly concerns your business.” The big man nodded surly assent. “Thee sees I have taken off the armor for a time. I will wear it in the city where horses and people are not so silly. What is thee doing here?” “I have no time to talk about myself, Friend Chick. I want to ask you if you are still of the same mind about your mission?” “I am.” “Then throw down that hardware and come to work on this job. A man has been hurt here--his wife is in need. Earn some money and give it to them.” “But my mission concerns the world--the wide world.” “Real selfishness's chief excuse! Here's something ready to your hand. Will you do it?” “But thee told me thee would not go forth and do good!” “No matter about me. I am not a professional knight-errant! Will you do this?” “Ten seconds more!” warned the boss. “I cannot change my plans so suddenly,” protested Chick. “A knight-errant should not have plans! My time is up and I have work. Good-by, Friend Chick!” The young man went back to his task and the Quaker passed on, muttering reaffirmation of his own high aims. “And how could I expect a vagrant to understand?” he asked himself. The vagrant toiled two weeks at his heavy task and when the man Jose was about again the volunteer slipped away without farewell. He left on the table of his under-the-eaves bedroom in the Jose house all the pay he received for his work, to the last penny. “He wasn't what he seemed to be,” ran the burden of Mrs. Jose's various disquisitions on this strange guest. “He ate his vittles and asked no questions, and was out from underfoot, and was always willing to set up with my husband and give me a snippet of rest and a wink of sleep; and he read out of little books all the time--he had 'em stuffed into his pockets. And there needn't anybody tell _me_! He left all his pay on the table, every cent of it, and stole away without waiting for no thanks from nobody!” IV FARR, THE FAT TRAMP, AND A SUIT OF CLOTHES