It was a small square cellar, having earthen sides, but piles of pine boxes made ambushes everywhere.
“Come out!” Grandma Padgett spoke again. “We won't have any tricks played. But if you're hurt, we can help you.”
It was like addressing solid darkness, for the chip was languishing upon its coals, and cast but a dim red glare around the shovel.
Still some being crept toward them from the darkness, uttering a prolonged and hearty groan, as if to explode at once the accumulations of silence.
CHAPTER VI. MR. MATTHEWS.
Aunt Corinne realizing it was a man, rushed to the top of the steps and hid her eyes behind the door. She knew her mother could deal with him, and, if he offered any harm, pour coals of fire upon his head in a literal sense. But she did not feel able to stand by. Robert, on the other hand, seeing no red nightcap on the head thrust up toward them, supported his grandmother strongly, and even helped to pull the man up-stairs.
One touch of his soft, foolish body was enough to convince any one that he was a harmless creature. His foot was sprained.
Robert carried a backless chair and set it before the fire, and on this the limping man was placed. Grandma Padgett emptied her coals on the hearth and surveyed him. He had a red face and bashful eyes, and while the top of his head was quite bald, he had a half-circle of fuzz extending around his face from ear to ear. He wore a roundabout and trousers, and shoes with copper toes. His hands were fat and dimpled as well as freckled. Altogether, he had the appearance of a hugely overgrown boy, ducking his head shyly while Grandma Padgett looked at him.
“For pity sake!” said Grandma Padgett. “What ails the creature? What's your name, and who are you?”