Part 8 (2/2)
”There ye are,” said the farmer pointing ahead with his whip, ”and I've no doubt it's a glad sight to ye, youngster. Have ye walked far?”
”Fifteen miles, I think.”
”Fifteen miles! Pretty hungry, eh?”
”Yes.”
”Did ye come across the water alone?”
”No. There was a friend of my father's travelling to this country also.
I left him last night.”
Now the wagon was jolting over the cobblestones, jarring every bone in Paul's weary body. And, he was so hungry! All at once he caught the odor of spices, of fresh ginger-bread-such a friendly smell, such a homey, domestic smell, that made you think of a warm hearth, and familiar faces-
The horse stopped.
”Well, young man, I guess we part now.”
Paul felt as if he were asleep. He climbed stiffly out of the cart, shook the friendly, h.o.r.n.y paw that his erstwhile companion thrust out, and tried to mutter his thanks. The wagon rumbled away up the street-and here he was.
He stood in the shelter of the quaint wooden balcony which extended from the second story of the Lambert's dwelling out over the pavement. In front of him the light shone cheerily through the bakeshop window.
Somehow, he rather dreaded to go up and knock at the door. Suppose that after all it was the wrong place? Suppose that no one knew that he was coming? Or, suppose that they wouldn't believe he was Paul Winkler?
”So the prince took his knife and cut the third of the golden apples in half, and to his astonishment-”
”Janey, _who_ is that talking to your father?” demanded Granny, opening her eyes suddenly.
Jane stopped and listened. Granny's room was directly over the dining room, and sounds carried easily through the thin walls of the old house.
”I don't know, Granny,” said Jane. ”n.o.body in particular, I guess.”
But the old lady felt nervously for her stick.
”Heavens! It _couldn't_ be-Janey, just run to the head of the stairs and see. Minie, darling, do you see Granny's stick? Run, Janey-just peep over.”
But the door of the dining room was half closed, and Janey, hanging over the bannister, had to wait several moments before she caught a glimpse of the stranger, whose low voice occasionally interrupted her father's eloquent talk.
”My dear boy, we will go into this at length, later this evening. I see that you are tired now. You say you _walked_ from Allenboro?”
”It was necessary. I did not discover that my money had been stolen until after I left the s.h.i.+p.”
”Did Mr. Morse know of your misfortune?”
”No. I did not tell him.”
Then Jane caught her first glimpse of the speaker, as he took a step back toward the fireplace, and into her line of vision through the half opened door.
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