"
"Stop! Direxia, go and set another place for supper! Shut the door! Come
here and sit down! No, not on that cheer. Take the ottoman with the bead
puppy on it. There! I get crumpled up, sitting here alone. Some day I
shall turn to wood. I like a new face and a new notion. I had a grandson
who used to live with me, and I'm lonesome since he died. How do you
like tramping, now?"
"Pretty well; it's all right in the summer, or when a man has his
health."
"See things, hey, new folks, new faces, get ideas, is that it?"
"That begins it, but after a while,--I really think I must go. Madam,
you are very kind but I prefer to go."
"Cat's foot!"
The shabby man laughed helplessly and just then Direxia stuck her head
in at the door and snapped out, "Supper's ready!"
The shabby man seemed in a kind of dream--half unconsciously he put the
old lady into her chair--then at a sign from her he took the seat
opposite--he laid the damask napkin across his knees and winced at the
touch of it as at the touch of a long-forgotten hand.
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