"We ought to know. She is my husband's niece."
A grin overspread the reaper's face.
"And is that so?" he asked, in a mock surprise. "I wasn't aware of it."
"Well, you are now," said Joan.
"Yes, and the news alters our relations altogether, doesn't it?" he said pleasantly.
He tossed his battered hat upon the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down in it at his ease, his legs stretched out, his hands deep in his pockets. He nodded familiarly to Joan.
"How do you do, sis?" He turned his face toward Mr. Daventry, "You have got a nice little place, brother Robert. Shows what honest work can do if persevered with day after day for a great number of consecutive years. Quite a nice little place. You haven't, by any chance, got a nice little cigar, too, have you, Robert, for your long-lost brother?"
Robert Daventry's face grew red, and the veins swelled upon his forehead. He was a man quickly moved to passion, and quick, too, the passion exhausted, to swing back into doubts and hesitations. He blew either hot or cold, and, sooner or later, he was sure to blow cold. Now, however, his temper was up, and he brought his great fist down with violence upon the table.
"What do you mean by your insolence?" he shouted "Stand up!"
Joan laid a hand upon the old man's arm to restrain him. The reaper, for his part, never budged from his attitude.