Charnock's skin-coat was ragged, his mittens were tattered, and his long boots badly worn. He looked tired and unkempt, but Sadie's eyes were soft as she studied him.
“Your face is very thin, but I don't like it less,” she said. “You haven't come back the same, Bob; I think you have grown.”
“Perhaps the pains account for the thinness,” Charnock answered with a smile. “Anyway, you ought to be satisfied, because you tried to make me grow, and in a sense I was very small when I left you. But we won't be sentimental and I want to change my clothes.”
He found fresh clothes ready, and when he came back his slippers, pipe, and a recent newspaper occupied their usual place. Sitting down with a smile of content, he lazily looked about.
“This is remarkably nice,” he said. “The curious thing is that I feel as if I'd only left the house five minutes since. Everything I want is waiting, although you didn't know I was coming.”
“I knew you would come some day, and come like this, without letting me know.”
“And so you kept everything ready?” Charnock rejoined. “Well, I imagine that's significant! But you see, I didn't know I could leave camp until the day before I started, and then it looked as if I'd get here as soon as the mail.”
Sadie gave him a quick glance. “Then something happened that made you leave?”
“Something did happen, but nothing bad. However, it's a long story and I've not had much to eat.”
“Supper will be ready in five minutes, and I've got something that you like.”