After his fashion, silent, Joslin nodded, and forthwith went over to the boarding house of the Widow Dunham, a few streets distant from the hotel. He placed before that dame a fair statement of his own case, explaining that sixty cents a day was all he was earning, that he was very, very hungry, but that he could perhaps do with two meals a day. The widow smilingly estimated the tall young man before her, reviving a somewhat ancient dimple as she did so. “Men is mostly troublesome,” said she. “I’ve married two of ‘em in my time. The first one was kilt out in the hills, and the second one was so triflin’ he went out into the Blue Grass, an’ I never did hear from him no more. I orter have some sort of man around the place to fetch in the water an’ git me some wood now an’ then. Ye come in and take keer of them chores like, an’ pay me fifty cents a day, an’ we’ll call it even. “Ye’d orter have a pair of shoes, by right,” added she, “an’ maybe a coat. Sometimes I have quality come here to my place—I’m expectin’ some any time now from outside. Mr. James B. Haddon of New York, him and his wife is comin’ in, he writ me. Natural, if I have folks like them around ye’d orter have a pair of shoes an’ a good coat, anyways of nights.” She stepped back into her own well-ordered domicile, and presently emerged with a pair of shoes, not much worn. To these she added a coat, which, beyond question, never had seen fabrication in this part of the world. “Here’s something that Mr. Haddon lef’ here, last time he was in. He goes back into the hills, or leastways he intended to if he ever got started to it, because he’s the Company man. He threw them things away, so I reckon ye’ll be welcome to ‘em.” Joslin took these articles and looked them over. To put on another man’s clothing was to him the hardest trial of all his life. Proud as the proudest of aristocrats, it cut him to the core to use these things thus offered. Concluding that it was his duty, he accepted it with the other punishments which life was offering him. “Thank ye, ma’am,” said he. “They’ll come right handy, I’m sure.” He did not smile as he spoke. As for the Widow Dunham, she herself did smile, as he went out the gate. “Hit’ll be right good to have a man around the house onct more,” said she to herself. This was of a morning. As dusk fell, Joslin appeared once more at the door of his new home. He was not left long idle. “I’ll tell ye, Mister,” said the widow, “I ain’t axin no questions about how ye come here—I’m mountain myself, an’ I kin keep my mouth shet. If ye’ll fetch me some worter from the well yander, an’ go down to the river an’ git me some slabs fer the fire, an’ saw ‘em up, I’ll be obleeged to ye. Then ye’ll have yore supper. How ye beginnin’ to feel now?” She turned her glance to the wound in the back of Joslin’s head.