He went off, and presently John heard him shouting for him to come up.
"What do you want?" he called in answer.
"You."
"What for?"
"A find; a grand idea."
John went up, expecting a hoax, but yet reassured by the earnestness of Hugh's tone.
"Look here," exclaimed a voice from the depths of a small attic where only a few boxes were kept, "if you don't think I've lighted on a splendid plan. Here's a room for you all ready, and we've nothing to do but carry up the bed, and there you are."
By this time John stood in the low doorway of the little room, and looked round.
His mind quickly placed a little furniture round it, and hung his pictures and text on its bare walls, and in a few moments it became his own little room, full of his own things.
"Or I could have it," broke in Hugh's voice.