"Do let me go to the store with you. You know I always enjoy a walk after breakfast."
"Pretty soft walkin', ma'am," said the landlord, after eying Grace's daintily shod feet. "Better let me borrow you my wife's gum shoes; she ain't likely to go out of the house to-day. You ought to have gum boots, though, if you're dead set on walkin' about in winter."
Grace thanked the landlord for his offer and advice, but hurried Phil out of the hotel, after which she said:—
"That was my first visit to a hotel of any kind. Do they improve on acquaintance? Oh, Phil! Don't look so like a thunder-cloud! What can the matter be?"
"I should have been thoughtful enough to come a day or two in advance, and found a proper home for you. I hope Caleb will know of one. Be careful!—the sidewalk is ending. Let me go first."
Two or three successive planks served as continuation of the sidewalk, and their ends did not quite join, but Philip skilfully piloted his wife along them. Beyond, in front of a residence, was a brick walk about two feet wide, after which was encountered soft mud for about fifty linear feet. Philip looked about for bits of board, stone, brick—anything with which to make solid footing at short intervals. But he could see nothing available; neither could he see any person out of doors, so in desperation he took Grace in his arms and carried her to a street-crossing, where to his delight he saw a broad stick of hewn timber embedded in the mud and extending from side to side. After this were some alternations of brick sidewalk, mud, and a short causeway of tan-bark, the latter ending at a substantial pavement in front of a store over which was a weatherbeaten sign bearing the name Jethro Somerton.
"The treasure-house of Her Majesty Grace I., Queen of Claybanks," said Philip. "Shall we enter?"
As Philip opened the door, a small man who was replenishing the stove looked around, dropped a stick of wood, wiped his hands on his coat, came forward, smiling pleasantly, and said:—
"Mr. Somerton, I'm very glad to see you again."