“And,” continued his host, growing very red in the face, “I am very sorry, but—every room in the house is taken. Would you mind sleeping at the lodge until we can make a place for you?”
The old gentleman bent a keen glance upon the speaker at this.
He saw his embarrassment, marked his averted eye and shamefaced air, and mistrusted something of its cause.
“Sleep at the lodge?” he repeated, in a peculiar tone. “Oh, no; I’ve just come from Henry’s, where I slept over the stable. They had a ‘house full of company,’ too. Is the lodge far from here? You know I’ve never been in this house before.”
“About two minutes’ walk; I will go with you and see that you are made comfortable. It is too bad that things should happen so,” Mr. Richards said, with real regret as he saw how weary the traveler was, and he had half a mind to ring and command that he be shown into one of the guest chambers in spite of his wife’s objections.
“Never mind, George; I shall sleep just as well there as here, no doubt,” and he arose as if anxious to get away.
“Where is your baggage? I will attend to having what you need sent down,” Mr. Richards remarked, as he took up his hat to accompany him.
“I have nothing but a small valise,” was the reply. “You know I wrote you that I had been very unfortunate. I was on board the —— that was lost last fall, and everything I had on board went down.”
“On board the —— were you?” cried Mr. Richards, in surprise, and glad of any change in the subject of conversation. “Why, then you must have known Star, as she was also on that steamer.”
“Star—Star Gladstone, do you mean?” eagerly inquired Mr. Rosevelt, for it was he, as doubtless the reader has surmised before this.