THE wanderer, of whose name even the landlord at the tavern seemed uncertain, passed some curious days after this. Upon the plea of wanting work, he visited house after house in the village, staying in each one as long as he was made welcome. Though no talker, he seemed to like to have talk going on around him, and if he sometimes went to sleep over it, he was forgiven by the simple and credulous inhabitants on account of his old age and seeming decrepitude. In one house he was given breakfast, in another dinner, but in none did he find work, though he assured everybody that he was very good in the field, notwithstanding the unfortunate curvature of his back.
It was not an uncommon thing in Hamilton for men to pass from house to house in this way, and he was little noted, but if anyone had been curious enough to watch his eye they would have observed that it had a remarkably penetrating power, and that but little escaped its notice. Another thing that would also have been noticed was the curious look of recognition which would suddenly creep into his eyes, as if he saw some of these things for the second time; and if anyone had walked near enough to him to listen as well as watch, he would have heard a name drop from his lips now and then as he walked up the phlox-bordered walk of some humble garden, or stopped at the back door of one of the more pretentious mansions on the main street.
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