It was not until after they had left the Corners some distance behind them that the object of Pen's journey was mentioned. Then Henry Cobb asked:
"How does the old gentleman like your leaving?"
"I don't think he likes it very well," was the reply. "But he's been lovely about it. He gave me some money and his blessing."
Henry Cobb stared at the boy in astonishment. It was not an unheard of thing for Grandpa Walker to give his blessing; but that he should give money besides, was, to say the least, unusual.
"Yes," replied Pen, "he couldn't have treated me better if I'd lived with him always."
Mr. Cobb cast a contemplative eye on the landscape, and, for a full minute, he was silent. Then he turned again to Pen.
"I don't want to be curious or anything," he said; "but would you mind telling me how much money the old gentleman gave you?"
"Not at all," was the prompt reply. "He gave me eighteen dollars."
"Good for him!" exclaimed the man. "He's got more good stuff in him than I gave him credit for. I was afraid he might have given you only a dollar or two, and I was going to lend you a little to help you out. I will yet if you need it. I will any time you need it."
Henry Cobb was not prodigal with his money, but he was kind-hearted, and he had seen enough of Pen to feel that he was taking no risk.
"You're very kind," replied the boy, "but grandpa's money will last me a good while, and I shall get wages enough to keep me comfortably, and I shall not need any more."
After a while Mr. Cobb's thoughts turned again to Grandpa Walker.
"He'll miss you terribly," he said to Pen. "He hasn't had so easy a time in all his life before as he's had this spring, with you to do all the farm chores and help around the house. It'll be like pulling teeth for him to get into harness again."
Henry Cobb gave a little chuckle. He knew how fond Grandpa Walker was of comfortable ease.
"Well," replied Pen, "I'm sorry to go, and leave him with all the work to do; but you know how it is, Mr. Cobb."
"Yes, I know; I know. And you're going with splendid people. I've known the Starbirds all my life. None better in the country."
They had reached the summit of the elevation overlooking the valley that holds Chestnut Hill. Spring lay all about them in a riot of fresh green. The world, to boyish eyes, had never before looked so fair, nor had the present ever before been filled with brighter promises for the future. But the morning ride, delightful as it had been, was drawing to an end.