In another half hour Northrup saw the inn on ahead. He knew it at once from a picture-card he had bought earlier in the day. It set so close to the lake as to give the impression of getting its feet wet. It was a long, low white building with more windows, doors, and chimneys than seemed necessary. Everything looked trim and neat and smoke curled briskly above the hospitable house. There were, apparently, many fires in action, and they bespoke comfort and food. Northrup, upon reaching the inn, saw that a mere strip of lawn separated it from the road and lake, the piazza was on a level with the ground and three doors gave choice of entrance to the wayfarer. Northrup chose the one near the middle and respectfully tapped on it, drawing back instantly. He did not mean to have a second joke played upon him by doors. There was a stirring inside, a dog gave a sleepy grunt, and a man's voice called out: "The bolt's off." It would seem that doors were incidental barriers in King's Forest. No one was expected to regard them seriously. Northrup entered and then stood still. He was alive to impressions, and this second room, within a short space of time, had power, also, to arouse surprise. There was no sunlight here--the overshadowing piazza prevented that--but there were two enormous fireplaces, one at either end of the large room, and upon the hearths of both generous fires were burning ruddily. By the one nearer to Northrup sat a man with a bandaged leg stretched out before him on a stool, and a gold-and-white collie at his side. The man was elderly, stout, and imposing. His curly gray hair sprang--no other word conveyed the impression of the vitality and alertness of the hair--above a rosy, genial face; the eyes were small, keen, and full of humour, the voice had already given a suggestion of welcome. "You are Mr. Heathcote, I suppose?" Northrup was subconsciously aware of the good old mahogany furniture; the well-kept appearance of everything. "You've struck it right. Will you set?" "Thanks." Northrup took the chair opposite the master of the inn. "My name is Northrup, Brace Northrup from New York." "Footing it?" Heathcote was rapidly making one of his sudden estimates; generally he did not take the trouble to do this, but some people called forth his approval or disapproval at once. "Yes. I've taken my time, been a week on the way and, incidentally, recovering from an illness." "Pausing or staying on?" Northrup meant to say "pausing"; instead he found himself stating that he'd like to stay on if he could be accommodated. "We'll have to consult Aunt Polly as to that," said Heathcote. "You see I'm rather off my legs just now. Gander! Great bird, that gander. He lit out two weeks ago and cut me to the bone with his wing. He's got a wing like a hatchet. I'll be about in a day or two and taking command, but until then I have to let my sister have her say as to what burdens she feels she can carry."