“You’re the owner of this house!” said the young man.
Uncle William’s eye traversed it kindly, “I reckon it belongs to me—yet awhile. Will you come in—sir!” The figure towered still higher and Uncle William’s presence exhaled dignity and welcome.
The young man stepped over the sill. Andy followed sulkily.
“Sit down, sir.” Uncle William’s hand motioned to the red lounge.
The stranger crossed and sat down, holding his hat in his hand and glancing with quick eye about the little room.
Uncle William sat down opposite him, a hand on either knee, and looked at him over large spectacles.
“I’m the new fish-warden,” said the young man—as if he answered a polite question.
“I kind o’ reckoned you might be a fish-warden, or something like that,” said Uncle William. “I’m glad to see you.”
The young man smiled a little. “You’re the first one that’s glad, I guess—” The quick look had relaxed a little in his face. The warm, sunny room seemed to reach out and surround him.
Juno, from her place on the lounge, leaped down and walked with deliberate step across the room. She seated herself in the sunshine, with her back to the company, and looked steadily into space.