"Here's a right pretty place, isn't it, Ramsey? don't you think?" Fred
remarked innocently, as they were passing a lawn of short-clipped,
bright green grass before a genial-looking house, fresh in white paint
and cool in green-and-white awnings. A broad veranda, well populated
just now, crossed the front of the house; fine trees helped the awnings
to give comfort against the sun; and Fred's remark was warranted.
Nevertheless, he fell under the suspicion of his companion, who had
begun to evince some nervousness before Fred spoke.
"What place do you mean?"
"The Yocum place," said Mr. Mitchell. "I hear the old gentleman's mighty
prosperous these days. They keep things up to the mark, don't they,
Ramsey?"
"I don't know whether they do or whether they don't," Ramsey returned
shortly.
Fred appeared to muse regretfully. "It looks kind of _empty_ now,
though," he said, "with only Mr. and Mrs. Yocum and their three married
daughters, and eight or nine children on the front porch!"
"You wait till I get you where they can't see us!" Ramsey warned him,
fiercely.
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