As William turned into the driveway leading to the front entrance, he was hailed by a man who was cutting the grass around one of the flower beds. "What'll you be wantin', laddie?" said the grass-cutter. "To see Miss Whimple," answered William readily. "And what for?" William eyed the questioner, and with a gleam of mischief in his eyes, replied quietly, "On business." "Aye--business, they'll all be saying that. She'll no see ye, ma lad, so you better be tellin' me, and maybe I'll be able to tell ye the way to be goin' aboot it." "What part of Scotland did you come from?" asked William sweetly. The man glowered at him--the boy went on, "You could never deny you came from Scotland, the thistles is just stickin' out on you in bunches." "You're a verra cheeky young----" began the man, but William cut him short with, "Save your breath, Scotty, I know more about myself than you can ever guess." And then changing his tone, he asked sharply, "Do you own this place?" "Miss Whimple is the owner, young man, and I'm thinking----" "Don't--don't get to thinkin'. It'll stop the grass-cutting if you do; but seeing that you don't own the place I guess it's no good asking you what you'll take for it----" "Ye young----" began the man, but whatever else he might have said he kept to himself, for at that moment a woman appeared at the front entrance of the house and called, "John, ye'll be leaving the laddie alone--Miss Whimple's expectin' him." William walked up to the woman, lifted his cap, and asked in his best manner, "That gentleman back there a relative of yours?" She smiled at the audacity of it perhaps, but answered, "Aye, the gowk's marrit till me, but I'm sometimes feared I made a mistake takin' peety on him. Will ye come in--if your name happens to be Tur'r'rnpike." "Well, it's something like that," answered William cordially as he stepped inside, "but it don't often get so many 'r's' slung into it." Miss Whimple appeared in the hallway and extended a hand to William, who squeezed it heartily and hoped the lady was well. She was, she said. "Well, I'm glad to hear it," said William. "Umph--it doesn't take the boys long to follow the example of the men. Now, you don't really care a cent about my health, and you know it!" "You're wrong, Miss Whimple," he answered, and there was earnestness in his tone. "I like people I know to be well--most of them anyway." "You don't care whether the others are or not?" "Well, some of 'em--some of 'em. You see there's a few wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they was well, and the others--well, never mind 'em."