NEXT day Master went to Tillbury for his mail, a-walk of some twenty miles. He lingered for awhile near the shore of Buckhom on his way, but saw nothing of her he loved.
Two fishermen had arrived at Strong's, and the Emperor had taken them to spring holes in the lower river.
After supper that evening he built a big fire in front of the main camp, and sat down beside the fishermen with Socky and Sue in his lap.
Darkness had fallen when Dunmore strode into the firelight.
"Dwellers in the long house," he said, removing his cap, "I am glad to sit by your council fire."
"Had supper?" Strong inquired.
"No—give me a doughnut and a piece of bread and butter. I'll eat here by the fire."
He took the children in his arms while Strong went to prepare his luncheon.
"I love and fear you," said he. "You make me think of things forgotten."
Of late Socky had thought much of the general subject of grandfathers. He knew that they were highly useful members of society. He had seen them carry children on their backs and draw them in little wagons. This fact had caused him to put all able-bodied grandfathers in the high rank of ponies and billy-goats. His uncles Silas and Robert had been out of camp so much lately they had been of slight service to him. The thought that a grandfather would be more reliable, had presented itself, and he had broached the subject to little Sue. How they were acquired—whether they were bought or "ketched" or just given away to any who stood in need of them—neither had a definite notion. On this point the boy went to his aunt for counsel. She told him, laughingly, that they were "spoke for" in a sort of proposal like that of marriage. He had begun to think very favorably of Mr. Dunmore, and timidly put the question: