, I suppose?"

Northrup was subconsciously aware of the good old mahogany furniture;
the well-kept appearance of everything.

"You've struck it right. Will you set?"

"Thanks."

Northrup took the chair opposite the master of the inn.

"My name is Northrup, Brace Northrup from New York."

"Footing it?" Heathcote was rapidly making one of his sudden
estimates; generally he did not take the trouble to do this, but some
people called forth his approval or disapproval at once.

"Yes. I've taken my time, been a week on the way and, incidentally,
recovering from an illness."

"Pausing or staying on?"

Northrup meant to say "pausing"; instead he found himself stating that
he'd like to stay on if he could be accommodated.

"We'll have to consult Aunt Polly as to that," said Heathcote. "You
see I'm rather off my legs just now. Gander! Great bird, that gander.
He lit out two weeks ago and cut me to the bone with his wing. He's
got a wing like a hatchet. I'll be about in a day or two and taking
command, but until then I have to let my sister have her say as to
what burdens she feels she can carry."

For a moment Northrup regarded himself, mentally, as a burden. It was
a new sensation and he felt like putting up a plea; but before he
could frame one Heathcote gave a low whistle and almost at once a door
at the rear opened, admitting a fragrance of delectable food and the
smallest woman Northrup had ever seen. That so fragile a creature
could bear any responsibility outside that due herself, was difficult
to comprehend until one looked into the strange, clear eyes peering
through glasses, set awry. Unquenchable youth and power lay deep in
those piercing eyes; there was force that could command the slight
body to do its bidding.

"Polly, this is Mr. Northrup, from New York"--was there lurking
amusement in the tone?--"He wants to stop on; what do you say? It's up
to you and don't hesitate to speak your mind."

The woman regarded the candidate for her favour much as she might
have a letter of introduction; quite impersonally but decidedly
judicially.

"If Mr. Northrup will take pot luck and _as is_, I think he can stay,
brother."

Northrup had an unreasoning sense of relief. All his life his pulses
quickened when what he desired seemed about to elude him. He smiled,
now, like a boy.

"Thank you," he ventured, "you'll find me most grateful and
adaptable."

"Well, since that's settled," Aunt Polly seemed to pigeonh