"P'raps this is one of them," suggested Trot.

They reached the house after a brisk walk and Cap'n
Bill knocked upon the door. It was at once opened by a
rugged looking man who had "bumps all over him," as Trot
afterward declared. There were bumps on his head, bumps
on his body and bumps on his arms and legs and hands.
Even his fingers had bumps on the ends of them. For dress
he wore an old gray suit of fantastic design, which
fitted him very badly because of the bumps it covered but
could not conceal.

But the Bumpy Man's eyes were kind and twinkling
in expression and as soon as he saw his visitors he
bowed low and said in a rather bumpy voice:

"Happy day! Come in and shut the door, for it grows
cool when the sun goes down. Winter is now upon us."

"Why, it isn't cold a bit, outside," said Trot, "so it
can't be winter yet."

"You will change your mind about that in a little
while," declared the Bumpy Man. "My bumps always tell me
the state of the weather, and they feel just now as if a
snowstorm was coming this way. But make yourselves at
home, strangers. Supper is nearly ready and there is food
enough for all."