Such was her summary. Perhaps nobody but the Major would have taken serious objection to it. He was quite sure that things were as he wished to have them; and it did not occur to him that anybody else was called upon to consider the matter. This evening he was sitting alone in the big room he called his den, a room whose walls were lined with bookcases, gun racks and cabinets, and decorated with antlered heads of moose and deer. The pictures were few but good. Each hung as if its top had been adjusted with the aid of a spirit-level. The books on the shelves were like soldiers on parade. The master of the house, seated before his open fire, curiously matched the room. He was very neat and precise in dress; he held himself stiffly, and after a fashion which caused careless observers to credit him with greater height than he possessed. As a matter of fact, he was rather short in stature and thin to gauntness; though it seldom occurred to anybody to speak of him as a little man. Perhaps this was due to his domineering manner and striking face. The Major was a person to attract attention in any company. He had a shock of iron-gray hair, bushy eyebrows, a fiercely beaked nose, and a bristling moustache and goatee. His eyes were keen and piercing, and not often inclined to friendliness. It need hardly be said that he was not on terms of intimacy with the youth of Plainville. Not that they ventured to annoy him--far from it! Two-thirds of the boys in town would cross the street to avoid meeting him, no matter how clear might be their consciences of recent offense against him. But the Major, striding along, swinging his cane and grumbling to himself as he advanced, was just the sort of figure to which peaceful folk involuntarily yield the crown of the way. And this evening, though he was not marching belligerently through the town, but was sitting before his cheery fire, he looked even more warlike--and war-worn--than in his public appearances. There was a patch of court-plaster on his cheek, and his left hand was wrapped in a bandage. There was a deferential knock, and the door of the room opened. In stepped a man servant, severe of countenance. He advanced to the Major, and halting, stood at attention. “Mr. Parker--to see you, sir,” he reported. “Yes, sir; Mr. Parker and Master Parker.” The Major scowled. “What! Parker and that boy of his? What’s he here for? But show Parker in, of course. If the boy doesn’t want to come, don’t urge him. Perhaps he’ll wait in the parlor.” But Master Parker, albeit he gladly would have lingered behind, was not to be permitted to escape his ordeal. With dragging foot he entered the den at his father’s heels, and stood unhappily clutching his cap, while his elders shook hands somewhat formally. “Ah, Mr. Parker, glad to see you!” said the Major. “Be seated, I beg you. And come up to the fire. Chilly evening, sir; chilly, though seasonable.” “Major Bates, permit me to present my son, Samuel,” said Mr. Parker.