orld for me. Well, here was the message at last, though
I never dreamt of it, but just sat stupidly, with my fingers touching my
pocket seams.

CHAPTER VI

THE GENTLEMAN IN BLUE

My mother glanced up from her work at me. I knew that her look asked me
if I had heard the bell, and if I would not go to the door in answer;
and, though I felt lazy, I was not base enough to ignore that appeal. So
I lurched up from my chair and swung through the little shop and flung
the door wide open, a thought angrily, for I had been deep in my brown
study and was stupidly irritated at being jarred from it.

I half expected, so far as I expected anything, to see some familiar
neighbour, with the familiar demand for a twist of tape or a case of
needles, so that I confess to being not a little surprised and even
startled by what my eyes did rest upon. The doorway framed a wholesome
picture of a middle-aged comely gentleman.

I see the stranger now in my mind's eye as I saw him then with my bodily
vision--a stoutly made, well set-up man of a trifle above the middle
height, in a full-skirted blue coat; a gold-laced hat upon his powder,
and a gold-headed cane in his hand. The florid face was friendly, and
shrewd too, lined all over its freshness with little lines of experience
and wisdom and knowledge of the world, and two honest blue eyes shone
straight at me from beneath bold black eyebrows.

It was certainly a most unfamiliar figure in the framework of our shop
door, and I stood and stared at it, somewhat unmannerly, for a space of
several seconds. After a while, finding that I still barred his way and
said nothing, the stranger smiled very good-humouredly; and as he smiled
I saw that his teeth were large and white and sound.

'Well, young sir,' he said pleasantly, 'are you Master Raphael
Crowninshield?'

I told him that was my name.

'Then I should like to exchange a word or two with you,' he said; 'can
we be private within?'

I answered him that there was no one inside but my mother, and I begged
him to step into the little parlour.

The stout gentleman nodded. 'Your mother?' he said. 'Very good; I shall
be delighted to have the honour of making madam's acquaintance: bring me
to her.'

I led the way across the shop and up the two low steps into the little
parlour, where my mother, who had heard every word of this dialogue, had
laid aside her sewing, and now rose as the stranger approached and
dropped him a curtsey.