Mr. Hancock bowed once more and sat down to his writing-desk. Robert drove his wagon alongside the ship and unloaded the cheeses, then called at the stores around Faneuil Hall to find a market for the yarn and cloth and his wool. Few were ready to pay him money, but at last all was sold. "Can you direct me to the house of Mr. Samuel Adams?" he asked of the town crier. "Oh yes, you go through Mackerel Lane[12] to Cow Lane and through that to Purchase Street, and you will see an orchard with apple and pear trees and a big house with stairs outside leading up to a platform on the roof; that's the house. Do you know Sam?" [Footnote 12: Mackerel Lane is the present Kilby Street.] "No, I never have seen Mr. Adams." [Illustration: Samuel Adams.] "Well, if you run across a tall, good-looking man between forty-five and fifty, with blue eyes, who wears a red cloak and cocked hat, and who looks as if he wasn't afeard of the king, the devil, or any of his imps, that is Maltster Sam. We call him Maltster Sam because he once made malt for a living, but didn't live by it because it didn't pay. He's a master hand in town meetings. He made it red-hot for Bernard, and he'll make it hotter for Sammy Hutchinson if he don't mind his p's and q's. Sam is a buster, now, I tell you." Robert drove through Cow Lane and came to the house. He rapped at the front door, which was opened by a tall man, with a pleasant but resolute countenance, whose clothes were plain and getting threadbare. His hair was beginning to be gray about the temples, and he wore a gray tie wig. "This is Mr. Adams, is it not?" Robert asked. "That is my name; what can I do for you?" "I am Robert Walden from Rumford. I think you know my father." "Yes, indeed. Please walk in. Son of my friend Joshua Walden? I am glad to see you," said Mr. Adams with a hearty shake of the hand. "I have brought you a cheese which my father wishes you to accept with his compliments." "That is just like him; he always brings us something. Please say to him that Mrs. Adams and myself greatly appreciate his kind remembrance of us." A tall lady with a comely countenance was descending the hall stairs. "Wife, this is Mr. Walden, son of our old friend; just see what he has brought us." Robert lifted his hat and was recognized by a gracious courtesy. "How good everybody is to us. The ravens fed Elijah, but I don't believe they brought cheese to him. We shall be reminded of your kindness every time we sit down to a meal," said Mrs. Adams.