question, however, loomed so large in his mind that it must be spoken.
“I wish you would tell me, Oscar,” he said, the name coming as readily to his tongue as though the friendship were years old, “I wish I knew why you choose to live here all alone.”
The man’s face flushed a little under his sunburn and his blue eyes, once again, took on that stern look.
“It is too long a story, Hugh,” was all he answered. “Before I tell you about it you must have your sleep.”
The hands of the big Swedish clock in the corner of Oscar’s kitchen must have come very near to making a complete round before Hugh awoke. He had been dreaming so vividly that for a moment he was bewildered and sat up rubbing his eyes and wondering where he was. He remembered in a moment, however, and scrambled quickly out of bed. The cottage was quite silent save for the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the fire on the hearth. Hugh went to the little
