“Scott was a wonderful genius,” said Robert, glowing with enthusiasm.
“I dare say he was,” said the fisherman placidly. “Where did you get the book?”
“I borrowed it of the hermit.”
This was the name which Robert used, for even now he had no knowledge of his mysterious friend’s name.
“Has he got many books?”
“A whole bookcase full.”
“He must be a rich man,” suggested John Trafton with apparent carelessness.
“I think he is,” said Robert, wondering a little at his uncle’s newborn interest in his new acquaintance, but suspecting nothing of his design in asking the question.
“It stands to reason he must be,” continued the fisherman. “He doesn’t do anything for a living.”
“No.”