"You will stay with us to-night, of course," Mr. Winters said.

"Oh, no, indeed! Thank you! I must get back before dark. Will rest a
few minutes, though."

The Storm King was out in full force that day, for during those few
minutes huge banks piled themselves against windows and doors, and
the wind shrieked and moaned like a demon, shaking the house to its
foundations.

"Now," said Mr. Winters as his guest rose to go, "it is madness for
you to think of going home tonight, and I must insist that you stay.
I am disabled just now, or I would harness old Prince and get you
through."

Here Edna came in with her pleading eyes and, "Do stay; I know it is
not safe for you to go."

Motherly Mrs. Winters entreated also. How could he resist such
urgency, especially when it exactly fitted in with what he desired
above all things to do. He yielded, and was soon comfortably
established in the large old rocker by the fire. And now he enjoyed
the pleasure of a new experience. The stereotyped fashionable house
he knew all about, but this old house that looked small, and yet
stretched itself out into many cosy rooms; it was quaint, it was
unique, and so was the little household. It was like stepping into a
book, and that a book of poems. What was the charm of that low-browed
room he sat in? Could it be the broad fireplace, wherein blazed and
snapped a veritable back-log? Mr. Winters had stoves to warm the
house, but he insisted on keeping this fire to look at.