“There are some nails to hang your clothing on,” went on Mr. Jennings, and then he stopped short, for it was clear that Carl’s small gripsack could not contain an extra suit, and he felt delicate at calling up in the boy’s mind the thought of his poverty.
“Thank you, sir,” said Carl. “I left my trunk at the house of a friend, and if you should succeed in finding me a place, I will send for it.”
“That is well!” returned Mr. Jennings, looking relieved. “Now I will leave you for a few moments. You will find water and towels, in case you wish to wash before dinner.”
Carl was glad of the opportunity. He was particular about his personal appearance, and he felt hot and dusty. He bathed his face and hands, carefully dusted his suit, brushed his hair, and was ready to descend when he heard the tinkling of a small bell at the foot of the front stairs.
He readily found his way into the neat dining-room at the rear of the parlor. Mr. Jennings sat at the head of the table, a little giant, diminutive in stature, but with broad shoulders, a large head, and a powerful frame. Opposite him sat Hannah, tall, stiff and upright as a grenadier. She formed a strange contrast to her employer.
“I wonder what made him hire such a tall woman?” thought Carl. “Being so small himself, her size makes him look smaller.”
There was a chair at one side, placed for Carl.
“Sit down there, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “I won’t keep you waiting any longer than I can help. What have you given us to-day, Hannah?”
“Roast beef,” answered Hannah in her deep tones.
“There is nothing better.”