little room.

Wade opened the door into the hall. Perhaps the Ghosts of Things Past
scampered up the winding stairway; at least, they were not to be seen.
He found the front-door key in the lock and turned the bolt. When the
door swung inward a little thrill touched him. For the first time in his
life he was standing on his own doorsill, looking down his own front
path and through his own front gate!

In every man's nature there is the desire for home-owning. It may lie
dormant for many years, but sooner or later it will stir and call. Wade
heard its voice now, and his heart warmed to it. Fortune had brought him
the power to choose his home where he would, and build an abode far
finer than this little cottage. And yet this place, which had come to
him unexpectedly and through sorrow, seemed suddenly to lay a claim upon
him. It was such a pathetic, down-at-heels, likable little house! It
seemed to Wade as though it were saying to him: "I'm yours now. Don't
turn your back on me. I've been so very, very lonesome for so many
years! But now you've come, and you've opened my doors and windows and
given me the beautiful sunlight again, and I shall be very happy. Stay
with me and love me."

In the carryall the boy was leaning back with his feet on the dasher and
whistling softly through his teeth. The gray was nibbling sleepily at
the decrepit hitching-post. Wade glanced at his watch, and looked again
in surprise. It was later than he had thought. If he meant to get out of
Redding that night it was time he thought of starting back. But after a
moment of hesitation he turned from the door and went on with his
explorations. In the parlor there was light enough from the front door
to show him the long formal room with its white marble centre-table