But this gentleman was a stranger to Caleb, and he looked at him enviously, though with the approbation which his appearance would have elicited from more refined judges.
"I suppose you are Caleb Benson," the gentleman said, throwing away the end of a cigar, as the old man mounted the steps.
"Wal, they call me so, sometimes," replied Caleb; for the instincts of his New England birthplace had not deserted him, and he never answered a question in a straightforward manner, if he could help it.
"Some friends of mine told me I could find very comfortable quarters with you," pursued the stranger. "I have run down to see the place, and take a day's duck shooting. I want to engage rooms, and leave my traps here, so that I can come over whenever I feel like it."
"I want to know,—mean to have a good long shute do you!" said Caleb. "Wal, I guess I could fix you up, if you ain't too particular."
"I am not at all particular what I pay," replied the gentleman; "I suppose that is satisfactory."
"I ain't going to say 'tain't," returned Caleb, his eyes beginning to twinkle at the prospect of a liberal guest, who meant to come frequently.
"I reckon you'd like to see what I can do in the way of rooms, Mr., Mr.——Wal, I don't think I quite ketched your name."
"Mr. North," said the stranger, smiling at the man's shrewdness.
He stood for a few moments talking with Caleb, and though the old fellow was not easily pleased, he was quite fascinated by the stranger's manner; and, having a very vague idea of princes, was almost inclined to think that this splendid-looking creature might be one who had strayed over from his native kingdom on a fishing excursion.