When he reached Walton Plain, he inquired whether Mr. James Edwards lived in the village.  They told him that he lived about half a mile out of the village.  They said it was a handsome white house, under the trees, back from the road, with a portico over the door.

Jonas rode on, observing all the houses as he passed; and he at once recognized the one which had been described to him.  He stopped before the great gate, and fastened his horses to a post.  He then walked along a road-way, which led in by the end of the house, and presently came to a door, where he stopped and knocked.  A girl came and opened the door.

“Is Mr. Edwards at home?”

“Yes,” said the girl.

“Will you ask him to come to the door a minute?”

“You’d better walk in, and I’ll speak to him.”

[Illustration:  Jonas stopping at the house of Mr. Edwards.]

Jonas stepped into an entry, which was carpeted, and which had a large map, hanging against the wall.  The girl opened a door into a little room, which looked somewhat like Mr. Holiday’s study.  There was a great deal of handsome furniture in it, and book-shelves around the walls.  A large table was in the middle of the room, covered with books and papers.

The girl handed Jonas a seat.

“Who shall I say has called?” said she to Jonas, as she was about to go out of the room.

“Why—­I—­my name is Jonas,” he replied; “but I don’t suppose Mr. Edwards knows me.  I came to see him about his dog.”

At this remark, the girl looked around towards the fire, and Jonas involuntarily turned his eyes in the same direction.  He saw there a large dog, very much like Franco in form and size, lying upon the carpet.  He was as handsome as Franco.  Jonas was surprised to see him.  The girl, too, looked surprised.  She, however, said nothing, but went out, and shut the door.

In a few minutes, the door opened, and an elderly gentleman, with grayish hair, and a mild and pleasant expression of countenance, came in.  He nodded to Jonas as he entered, and Jonas rose to receive him.  The gentleman then took a seat by the fire, and asked Jonas to sit down again.

“I came to see you, sir, about your dog,” said Jonas.

“Well, my boy,” replied the man, “and what about my dog?” and, as he said this, he looked down at the dog, which was lying upon the floor.

“I don’t know but that I have got him.”

“You have got him?” repeated Mr. Edwards.

“Yes, sir; a dog like that one came to me in the woods one day this winter.”

“O,” said Mr. Edwards, “you mean the dog that I lost.—­Yes,—­I had forgotten that, it is so long ago.  When did you find him?”

Jonas then told the whole story of the dog’s coming to them, and of their attempt to drive him away; and also of his seeing the advertisement in the tavern.  Mr. Edwards asked him a great many questions, such as what his name was, where he lived, and how long he had lived there, and how he happened to be journeying now.  At last he said,—­