"Haven't you any more manners, sir?" demanded Tony, good-naturedly.
The dog wagged his tail, and looked friendly.
"It's a hint that I must be on my journey," he thought.
About five o'clock he felt that it was about time to look out for a night's rest. A hotel was, of course, out of the question, and he looked about for a farm house. The nearest dwelling was a small one, of four rooms, setting back from the road, down a lane.
"Perhaps I can get in there," thought Tony.
An old man, with a patriarchal beard, whose neglected and squalid dress seemed to indicate poverty, was sitting on the door-step.
"Good evening," said Tony.
"Who are you?" demanded the old man, suspiciously.
"I am a poor traveler," said Tony.