"I am delighted to welcome you to Stapleton, my young friend," he said, shaking his hand cordially. "In the affliction which has come upon you, let me hope that you will find a haven of rest beneath my humble roof."
"I wonder why he always speaks of his 'humble roof,'" thought Walter. "Does he live in a shanty, I wonder?"
He made suitable acknowledgments, and proceeded to walk beside Mr. Drummond to the house which he termed humble.
It did not deserve that name, being a substantial two-story house, rather ugly architecturally, but comfortable enough in appearance.
"That is my humble dwelling," said Mr. Drummond, pointing it out. "It is not equal to the splendid mansion in which you have been accustomed to live, for my worldly circumstances differ widely from those of your late lamented parent; but I trust that in our humble way we shall be enabled to make you comfortable."
"Thank you, Mr. Drummond; I have no doubt of that. Your house looks very comfortable."
"Yes, it is plain and humble, but comfortable. We are plain people. We are not surrounded by the appliances of wealth, but we manage, in our humble way, to get through life. That is my son Joshua, who is looking out of the front window. I hope you may become good friends, considering how nearly you are related."
Walter raised his eyes, and saw Joshua, whose small, mean features, closely resembling his father's, expressed considerable curiosity. Walter secretly doubted whether he should like him; but this doubt he kept to himself.
Mr. Drummond opened the outer door, and led the way in.
"This is my wife, Mrs. Drummond," he said, as she approached, and kindly welcomed the young stranger.