But the Bumpy Man's eyes were kind and twinkling
in expression and as soon as he saw his visitors he
bowed low and said in a rather bumpy voice:
"Happy day! Come in and shut the door, for it grows
cool when the sun goes down. Winter is now upon us."
"Why, it isn't cold a bit, outside," said Trot, "so it
can't be winter yet."
"You will change your mind about that in a little
while," declared the Bumpy Man. "My bumps always tell me
the state of the weather, and they feel just now as if a
snowstorm was coming this way. But make yourselves at
home, strangers. Supper is nearly ready and there is food
enough for all."
Inside the house there was but one large room, simply
but comfortably furnished. It had benches, a table and a
fireplace, all made of stone. On the hearth a pot was
bubbling and steaming, and Trot thought it had a rather
nice smell. The visitors seated themselves upon the
benches -- except the Ork. which squatted by the fireplace
-- and the Bumpy Man began stirring the kettle briskly.
"May I ask what country this is, sir?" inquired Cap'n
Bill.
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