It was a wooden house, large and square, although not so large as those on the Cow Path. It had a deeply recessed doorway with four wooden columns extending up two stories to support the gable. The house was not clap-boarded, but was smooth and sanded and its surface was grooved to look like stone. It might once have been a fair imitation of granite, but the time was in the distant past when the old house would have fooled even the most casual observer. And it gave them no welcome; nobody opened the door at their approach, or, at least, nobody on the inside. The door did not open until Cousin Martha opened it herself, disclosing a dark and gloomy interior. "Come in, Sally," she said; "and you, too, Mr. Sanderson, if you please. If you will wait in the parlor for a moment, I will see about some breakfast for you. I have no doubt you are both hungry as well as Charlie. We have had our breakfast." Sally wondered who the "we" might be. It had not occurred to her until that moment that there might be somebody else in that great gloomy house besides Cousin Martha. "Sally," cried Charlie fretfully as they entered the dark parlor. "I want to go home. I want to go to my own home, Sally." "Hush, Charlie," said Sally. "This is our home now. Hush. Cousin Martha may hear you." Charlie would not hush. He was tired and hungry, although they had had an apology for a breakfast, the remains of their cold lunch, before six o'clock. "Isn't my home. This old house isn't--" The words died on his lips; for there was a sound behind the half-opened folding-doors at the end of the long room, and an old man appeared there. He seemed to Sally to be a very old man. He had a long white beard and stooped slightly as he made his way slowly toward them. "Is this Sarah Ladue?" he asked as he came forward. He came near Sally and held out his hand. "Yes, sir," answered Sally doubtfully, laying her hand in his. "It's Sally." The old man must have detected the doubt. "Well, Sally," he said kindly, "I am your father's uncle, your Cousin Patty's father." So Cousin Martha and Cousin Patty were one. "Oh!" returned Sally quickly. "I thought--that is, I'm very glad to see you." The old gentleman smiled quietly. "And I'm very glad to see you. Don't you want to come into the back parlor? There's a fire in there. You, too, sir," turning to Fox. "I forgot," interrupted Sally. "I am always forgetting to do it. This is Mr. Sanderson. He is a _very_ kind friend of ours. He came all the way with us just to see that we got here safely. And this is Charlie, sir." "I am happy to meet a very kind friend of Sally's," the old gentleman said, shaking hands with Fox. "From what I hear, she is in need of kind friends." He held his hand out to Charlie. "Will this little boy shake hands with his Uncle John?" That appeared to be the last thing that Charlie wished to do, but he did it, sulkily, without a word. Then the old gentleman led the way slowly into the back parlor.