“A big man all in gray. He’s some nobby dresser! I thought he was the President—or Secretary of State at least—when he came into the office and asked for Old Gordon. I takes him in at once.
“Now, they knowed each other well, those two did. Old Gordon was startled and he tried to heave up out of his chair. But you know how he is,” added Scorch, with scorn. “Takes him ten minutes to work his way out from between the arms when he wants to get up. Don’t know what he would do if there was a fire any time.”
“Why, Scorch!” admonished Nancy.
“Well,” said the boy, “he tries to heave up, and can’t, and sings out:
“‘Why, Jim!’
“‘Hello, Hen,’ says the man in gray.
“I hadn’t shut the door—quite. Sometimes I don’t,” admitted the boy, with a wink. “I hears the gray feller say:
“‘I just got back from Clintondale, Hen. What did you send that girl up there for, I want to know?’
“‘What girl?’ asks Old Gordon.
“‘Nancy Nelson,’ says the gray man