still. They
seemed old again.

Just before dinner he started up from the swing, craftily laid his
finger beside his nose, and whispered something very exciting and
mysterious to Mother, who kept saying: "Yes, yes. Yes, yes. Yes, I'd be
willing to. Though it would be hard." Immediately after dinner they
walked sedately down the village street, while blackbirds whistled from
the pond and children sang ancient chants of play under the arc-lights
at corners, and neighbors cried "'Evenin'" to them, from chairs on
porches. They called upon the town newspaperman, old Lyman Ford, and
there was a conference with much laughter and pounding of knees--also a
pitcher of lemonade conjointly prepared by Mrs. S. Appleby and Mrs. L.
Ford. Finally the Applebys paraded to the telegraph-office, and to Mr.
Harris Hartwig, at Saserkopee, they sent this message:

Come see us when can. Wire at once what day and train. Will
meet.

A sodden and pathetic figure, in his notorious blue-flannel shirt, and
the suit, or the unsuit, which he had worn into Lipsittsville in the
days when he had been a hobo, Father waited for the evening train and
for Mr. Harris Hartwig.

Mr. Hartwig descended the car steps like a general entering a conquered
province. Father nervously concealed his greasy shirt-front with his
left hand, and held out his right hand deprecatingly. Mr. Hartwig took
it into his strong, virile, but slightly damp, clasp, and held it (a
thing which Father devoutly hated) while he gazed magnanimously into
Father's shy eyes and, in a confidential growl which could scarce have
been heard farther away than Indianapolis, condescended: "Well, here we
are. I'm glad there's an end to all this wickedness and foolishness at
last. Where's Mother Appleby?"

"She wasn't feeling jus' like coming," Father mumbled. "I'll take you to
her."

"How the devil are you earning a living?"

"Why, the gent that owns the biggest shoe-store here was so kind as to
give me sort of work round the store like."

"Yuh, as porter, I'll venture! You might just as well be sensible, for
once in your life, Father, and learn that you're past the age where you
can insist and demand and get any kind of work, or any kind of a place
to live in, that just suits your own sweet-fancy. Business ain't
charity, you know, and all these working people that think a business is
run just to suit _them_--! And that's why you ought to have been more
appreciative of all Lulu did fo