Turning away from the station , he struck briskly into the Greenvale road . About three miles from the station he halted before a house built close to the road . It was old-fashioned , but large and comfortable-looking , with big barns in the rear and an orchard on the left slope . The house itself was in the shadow of the firs , but the yard lay out in the moonlight and the strange visitor did not elect to cross it . Instead , he turned aside into the shadow of the trees around the garden and , leaning against the old rail fence , gave himself up to contemplation of some kind . There was a light in the kitchen . The window-blind was not down and he had a fairly good view of the room . The only visible occupant was a grey-haired old man sitting by the table , reading from a large open volume before him . The stranger whistled softly . `` That 's old Stephen -- reading the Bible same as ever , by all that 's holy ! He has n't changed much except that he 's got mighty grey . He must be close on to seventy . It 's a shame to turn an old man like him out of house and home . But Joe Moore always was a genuine skinflint . '' He drew himself softly up and sat on the fence . He saw old Stephen Strong close his book , place his spectacles on it , and kneel down by his chair . The old man remained on his knees for some time and then , taking up his candle , left the kitchen . The man on the fence still sat there . Truth to tell , he was chuckling to himself as he recalled all the mischief he had done in the old days -- the doubtful jokes , tricks , and escapades he had gone through with . He could not help remembering at the same time how patient old Stephen Strong had always been with him .
He recalled the XXXXX he had been caught stealing the oats .
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