"Bein' you're here, I'll go out a bit," and she left the room.
Walter looked uneasily after her, and when she was gone, said:
"Lock the door, and keep her out. Don't let her come back. She's one of Macbeth's witches, and makes one think of Jessie's grandmother, who won't let me talk of love to Jessie, until I am—well, no matter what. Do you know my father?"
"No," and the captain shook his head mournfully, while Walter continued:
"Are you anybody's father?"
"I don't know," and the voice was sadder than when it spoke before.
"I'm looking for my father," Walter said, "just as Telemachus looked for his. Do you know Ulysses?"
The captain had heard of Ulysses, and the mention of him carried him back to an old stone house on the hill, where he had read the wonderful adventures of the hero.
"Well," Walter continued, "I am hunting for my father, and Jessie cried up in the pines when I told her about him, and how her father testified against him. Do you know Mr. Graham?"
"Who?" screamed the captain, bounding to his feet, and bending so near to Walter that his hot breath stirred the thick brown hair. "Do I know whom?"