He explained briefly. "How do you do? I'm a teacher, and I'd like to get board here a few days while passing my examinations. Mr. Herman Allen sent me." The woman's quick eye and ear were satisfied. "All right. Walk in, sir. I'm pretty full, but I expect I can accommodate you--if you don't mind Mr. Allen for a room-mate." "Oh, not at all," he said, while taking off his coat. "Come right in this way. Supper will be ready soon." He went into a comfortable sitting-room, where a huge open fire of soft coal was blazing magnificently. The walls were papered in florid patterns, and several enlarged portraits were on the walls. The fire was the only adornment; all else was cheap, and some of it was tawdry. Stacey spread his thin hands to the blaze, while the landlady sat down a moment, out of politeness, to chat, scanning him keenly. She was a handsome woman, strong, well-rounded, about forty years of age, with quick, gray eyes, and a clean, firm-lipped mouth. "Did you just get in?" "Yes. I've been on the road all day," he said, on an impulse of communication. "Indeed, I'm just out of college." "Is that so!" exclaimed Mrs. Mills, stopping her rocking in an access of interest. "What college?" "Jackson University. I've been sick, and only came West--" There came a look into her face that transformed and transfigured her. "_My_ boy was in Ann Arbor. He was killed on the train on his way home one day." She stopped, for fear of breaking into a quaver, and smiled brightly. "That's why I always like college boys. They all stop here with me." She rose hastily. "Well, you'll excuse me, won't you, and I'll go an' 'tend to supper." There was a great deal that was feminine in Stacey, and he felt at once the pathos of the woman's life. He looked a refined, studious, rather delicate young man, as he sat low in his chair and observed the light and heat of the fire. His large head was heavy with learning, and his dark eyes deep with religious fervor. Several young women entered, and the room was filled with the clatter of tongues. Herman came in a few moments later, his face in a girlish glow of color. Everybody rushed at him with loud outcry. He was evidently a great favorite. He threw his arms about Mrs. Mills, giving her a hearty hug. The girls pretended to be shocked when he reached out for them, but they were not afraid of him. They hung on his arms and besieged him with questions till he cried out, in jolly perplexity: "Girls, girls! This will never do!" Mrs. Mills brushed out his damp yellow curls with her hands. "You're all wet." "Girls, if you'll let me sit down, I'll take one on each knee," he said, pleadingly, and they released him. Stacey grew red with sympathetic embarrassment, and shrank away into a corner.