"I believe you are Uncle Jacob," said the squire, affably.
"Yes, Albert, and I'm mighty glad to see a relation. It's twenty-five years since I have seen one that was kin to me."
"Welcome to Lakeville, Uncle Jacob. I am glad to see you. Percy told me he met you on the road: Why didn't you ride up with him?"
"It wasn't worth gettin' in to ride a quarter of a mile. I am used to exercise in California."
"To be sure. Come into the house, and lay your valise down anywhere. Here is my wife, Mrs. Marlowe. Julia, this is Uncle Jacob, of whom you have heard me speak so often."
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Marlowe," said the lady, formally, just touching the old man's hand.
"Where are you going to put Uncle Jacob, Julia?" asked the squire.
"You may take him to the blue room," said Mrs. Marlowe, in a tone of hesitation.
This blue room was the handsomest chamber in the house, and was assigned to those whom it was considered politic to honor.
"Come right upstairs, Uncle Jacob. I'll show you your room myself," said Albert Marlowe.