"
The old fellow looked up at Dale hesitatingly; and Dale, looking down
at his clean-shaven cheeks, bushy white eyebrows, and the long wisps
of white hair brushed across his bald head, felt a great reverence. He
would not look at the threadbare shabbiness of the gray cloth suit, or
at the queer tints given by time and weather to the black felt hat
that was being balanced on two shrunken knees.
"I, ah, don't think I'll present myself before Mrs. Dale--ah, without
more preparation than this. Besides, would it not put her out?"
"No, indeed. Quite unceremonious--taking us exactly as you find
us--pot-luck."
"Then be it so. You are very good. Thank you, William."
"Thank you, Mr. Bates." Dale seized upon the visitor's hat and stick.
"Now you may cut along, Norah, and tell Mrs. Dale that Mr. Bates is
kind enough to stay supper--without ceremony."
Norah glided across the office to the inner door, and, going out,
asked if she should bring a lamp.
"Yes, bring the lamp in ten minutes--not before. There's light enough
for two such old friends to chat together;" and Dale waited until she
had shut the door. "Now, sir, this is kind and friendly. Give me your
hand, Mr. Bates. I'd like to hold it in mine, while I say these few
prelim'nary words.
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