“Shall I take you to your house, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach. “Yes, if you please.” Leach drove on till he reached a two-story building of Quaker-like simplicity but with a large, pleasant yard in front, with here and there a bed of flowers. Here he stopped his horse. “We have reached our destination, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “You are active. Jump out and I will follow.” Carl needed no second invitation. He sprang from the carriage and went forward to help Mr. Jennings out. “No, thank you, Carl,” said the little man. “I am more active than you think. Here we are!” He descended nimbly to the ground, and, drawing a one-dollar bill from his pocket, handed it to the driver. “I don’t like to take it, Mr. Jennings,” said Mr. Leach. “Why not? The laborer is worthy of his hire. Now, Carl, let us go into the house.” CHAPTER XV. Mr. JENNINGS AT HOME. Mr. Jennings did not need to open the door. He had scarcely set foot on the front step when it was opened from inside, and Carl found a fresh surprise in store for him. A woman, apparently six feet in height, stood on the threshold. Her figure was spare and ungainly, and her face singularly homely, but the absence of beauty was partially made up by a kindly expression. She looked with some surprise at Carl. “This is a young friend of mine, Hannah,” said her master. “Welcome him for my sake.” “I am glad to see you,” said Hannah, in a voice that was another amazement. It was deeper than that of most men. As she spoke, she held out a large masculine hand, which Carl took, as seemed to be expected. “Thank you,” said Carl. “What am I to call you?” asked Hannah. “Carl Crawford.” “That’s a strange name.” “It is not common, I believe.” “You two will get acquainted by and by,” said Mr. Jennings. “The most interesting question at present is, when will dinner be ready?” “In ten minutes,” answered Hannah, promptly. “Carl and I are both famished. We have had considerable exercise,” here he nodded at Carl with a comical look, and Carl understood that he referred in part to his contest with the tramp. Hannah disappeared into the kitchen, and Mr. Jennings said: “Come upstairs, Carl. I will show you your room.” Up an old-fashioned stairway Carl followed his host, and the latter opened the door of a side room on the first landing. It was not large, but was neat and comfortable. There was a cottage bedstead, a washstand, a small bureau and a couple of chairs. “I hope you will come to feel at home here,” said Mr. Jennings, kindly. “Thank you, sir. I am sure I shall,” Carl responded, gratefully. “There are some nails to hang your clothing on,” went on Mr. Jennings, and then he stopped short, for it was clear that Carl’s small gripsack could not contain an extra suit, and he felt delicate at calling up in the boy’s mind the thought of his poverty. “Thank you, sir,” said Carl. “I left my trunk at the house of a friend, and if you should succeed in finding me a place, I will send for it.”