"He's a very kind-hearted gentleman, Squire Fentolin, but he don't like strangers hanging around." "Well, I am not exactly a stranger, you see," Hamel remarked.

"My father used to stay for months at a time in that little shanty there and paint pictures.

It's a good many years ago." "I mind him," the woman said slowly.

"His name was Hamel." "I am his son," Hamel announced.
She pointed to the Hall.

"Does he know that you are here ?" Hamel shook his head.