They sat down at a window opening upon the tavern yard. The two school friends soon fell to rattling away about old experiences and friends; Nat listened and studied the newcomer closely.
“The cobbler near the river said that the boy who engaged his boat had an honest look and a merry laugh. So has this one,” as Ezra Prentiss’ laugh once more filled the coffee-room and an expression of boyish glee crossed his face at something Ben was saying. “I never saw any one look more honest or more worthy of confidence. And yet——”
Nat, try as he would, could not get beyond the facts as he saw them. There was great cause to suspect the young New Englander; but, still, there was also something about him that made such thoughts of him seem unjust and ridiculous.
Frankness itself was in his eyes, and his face was thoughtful looking even with its merry expression. He was rather taller than Ben Cooper and a trifle slimmer; but his frame was well knit and strong. He talked rapidly and with great spirit; his hands constantly gestured to point his remarks, and his white teeth shone in an ever ready smile.
Nat joined in the talk readily enough when it touched upon subjects of which he had any acquaintance.
“But,” said Ezra, at length, “it’s rather close here—don’t you think so? Let’s go outside. There’ll not only be more air, but more to interest us.”
With that they arose and made their way to the street.
“I never saw such throngs before,” said Ben, his wondering eyes taking in the loitering people. “It must be that the entire town is out to greet the strangers.”
“It’s the first time, I suppose, that so many have visited a colonial city at one time,” said Ezra. “And the fact that they are from twelve different provinces makes the occasion all the more remarkable.”
Just then two horsemen rode out of the inn yard; Ezra grasped Nat’s arm eagerly.