After he had finished his supper he looked long-
ingly at his pipe. He hesitated for a second, for he
realized the necessity of saving his precious tobacco;
then he became reckless: such enormous good for-
tune as a home must mean more to follow; it must
be the first of a series of happy things. He filled
his pipe and smoked. Then he went to bed on the
old couch in the other room, and slept like a child
until the sun shone through the trees in flickering
lines. Then he rose, went out to the brook which
ran near the house, splashed himself with water,
returned to the house, cooked the remnant of the
eggs and bacon, and ate his breakfast with the same
exultant peace with which he had eaten his supper
the night before. Then he sat down in the doorway
upon the sunken sill and fell again to considering
his main problem. He did not smoke. His tobacco
was nearly exhausted and he was no longer reckless.
His head was not turned now by the feeling that
he was at home. He considered soberly as to the
probable owner of the house and whether he would
be allowed to remain its tenant. Very soon, how-
ever, his doubt concerning that was set at rest. He
saw a disturbance of the shadows cast by the thick
boughs over the cart path by a long outreach of
darker shadow which he knew at once for that of a
man.
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