ole her
guest and label him as an individual, "I'll run out and lay another
plate. You just go along upstairs and pick out your room. They are all
ready. The front ones open to the lake and the west; the back ones are
east and woodsy; outside of that there isn't much choice. It's one o'
clock now, but I can put things back a spell and give you a chance to
wash before dinner."

Northrup picked up his bag and hat and started for the stairs at the
far end of the room. The sense of unreality was still upon him. He
felt like breathing low and stepping light. The sensation smacked of
magic. So long as one could believe it, it would hold, but once you
doubted, the old, grim existence would snatch you!

Upstairs the hall ran from north to south of the rambling house, on
either side the doors opened, leading to small, orderly rooms,
apparently alike except in detail of colour and placing of furniture.
There was a hearth in every room, upon which lay wood ready to light
and beside which stood huge baskets of logs giving promise of
unlimited comfort. Fresh towels and water were on stands, and the beds
fairly reached out to tired bodies with assurances of rest and sleep.
Northrup went, still treading light and believing, from door to door,
and then he chose a west room because the lapping of the lake sounded
like a lullaby.

It was the work of a few moments to drop dust-stained garments and
plunge one's head into the icy water; a few moments more and a
refreshed man emerged from a vigorous rubbing and gave a laugh of
sheer delight.

"I'm in for it!" he muttered, still clinging to the mood of unreality.
"I bet my last nickel that something's going to happen and by the lord
Harry! I'm going to see it through. This is one of those holes Manly
prophesied about. Looks as if it had been waiting for me to come."

He was downstairs in time to help his host to the head of his table,
in the adjoining room. They made rather an imposing procession, Aunt
Polly leading, the golden collie bringing up the rear.

Heathcote in a fat whisper gave some staccato advice en route: "Better
call sister 'Aunt Polly' at once. If you don't suggest offishness,
none will be suspected. Fall in line, I say! Dog's name is Ginger.
Animals like to be tagged, more human-like. Act as if you always had
been, or had come back. If there's one thing Polly can't abide, it's
hitting a snag."

Devoutly Northrup vowed he'd be no snag.

He took his place on the east