guffaws by way of preface, and said: "Well, you do look as if you
was at home and meant to stay. This 'ere scene kinder makes me
homesick; so I'll say good-night, and I'll be over in the mornin'.
There's some lunch on the table that my wife fixed up for you. I
must go, for I hear John junior hollerin' for me."

His only response to our profuse thanks was another laugh, which the
wind swept away.

"Who is John junior?" asked Merton.

"Mr. Jones's son, a boy of about your age. He was here waiting for
us, and keeping the fire up. When we arrived he came out and took
the horses, and so you didn't see him. He'll make a good playmate
for you. To use his father's own words, 'He's a fairish boy as boys
go,' and that from John Jones means that he's a good fellow."

Oh, what a happy group we were, as we gathered around the great,
open fire, on which I piled more wood!

"Do you wish to go and look around a little?" I asked my wife.

"No," she replied, leaning back in her rocking-chair: "let me take
this in first. O Robert, I have such a sense of rest, quiet,
comfort, and hominess that I just want to sit still and enjoy it
all. The howling of the storm only makes this place seem more like a
refuge, and I'd rather hear it than the Daggetts tramping overhead
and the Ricketts children crying down-stairs. Oh, isn't it nice to
be by ourselves in this quaint old room? Turn the lamp down, Robert,
so we can see the firelight flicker over everything. Isn't it