He knew that there was not a room in the house that his wife would give up; every one had been arranged for company who were expected or had already arrived, and he was at his wits’ end to know what to do with him. “Uncle Jacob” poor and ill was an entirely different character from “Uncle Jacob” rich and prosperous. But he sat chatting socially with him until Mrs. Blunt appeared with a tray and served a tempting little meal, which the old gentleman ate with evident relish. “I _was_ more hungry than I thought,” he said, when at length he had finished his second cup of tea, eaten the leg of a chicken and a couple of rolls. “Now, if you please, I should like to be shown to my room, for I have traveled a long distance to-day. But—where is Ellen? I should like to exchange greetings with her before I go.” “Ahem!” began Mr. Richards, feeling extremely uncomfortable. “Ellen has a house full of company to-night; if you could excuse her, and wait until to-morrow——” “Certainly—certainly,” the old man said, hastily, but in a disappointed tone; for his niece had always been the first to greet him and express her delight at his coming heretofore. “And,” continued his host, growing very red in the face, “I am very sorry, but—every room in the house is taken. Would you mind sleeping at the lodge until we can make a place for you?” The old gentleman bent a keen glance upon the speaker at this. He saw his embarrassment, marked his averted eye and shamefaced air, and mistrusted something of its cause. “Sleep at the lodge?” he repeated, in a peculiar tone. “Oh, no; I’ve just come from Henry’s, where I slept over the stable. _They_ had a ‘house full of company,’ too. Is the lodge far from here? You know I’ve never been in this house before.” “About two minutes’ walk; I will go with you and see that you are made comfortable. It is too bad that things should happen so,” Mr. Richards said, with real regret as he saw how weary the traveler was, and he had half a mind to ring and command that he be shown into one of the guest chambers in spite of his wife’s objections. “Never mind, George; I shall sleep just as well there as here, no doubt,” and he arose as if anxious to get away. “Where is your baggage? I will attend to having what you need sent down,” Mr. Richards remarked, as he took up his hat to accompany him. “I have nothing but a small valise,” was the reply. “You know I wrote you that I had been very unfortunate. I was on board the —— that was lost last fall, and everything I had on board went down.” “On board the —— were you?” cried Mr. Richards, in surprise, and glad of any change in the subject of conversation. “Why, then you must have known Star, as she was also on that steamer.” “Star—Star Gladstone, do you mean?” eagerly inquired Mr. Rosevelt, for it was he, as doubtless the reader has surmised before this. “Yes, Star, or Stella Gladstone, is her name.”