Jonas thanked the boy, got into his sleigh, and rode on.

"Poor Franco," said he, "I am afraid I must lose you."

He had hoped that Walton Plain would have proved to be off of his road,
so that he could have had a good reason for not doing any thing about
restoring the dog, until after he had gone home, and reported the facts
to the farmer. But now, as he found that it was on his way, and as he
would very probably go directly by Mr. Edwards's door, he concluded
that he ought, at any rate, to call and let him look at Franco, and see
whether it was his dog or not.

When he reached Walton Plain, he inquired whether Mr. James Edwards
lived in the village. They told him that he lived about half a mile out
of the village. They said it was a handsome white house, under the
trees, back from the road, with a portico over the door.

Jonas rode on, observing all the houses as he passed; and he at once
recognized the one which had been described to him. He stopped before
the great gate, and fastened his horses to a post. He then walked along
a road-way, which led in by the end of the house, and presently came to
a door, where he stopped and knocked. A girl came and opened the door.

"Is Mr. Edwards at home?"

"Yes," said the girl.

"Will you ask him to come to the door a minute?"