"Good idea," he said. "Excuse me, but the coffee seems bitter."
Mrs. Tilton looked at the old man as if she did not understand.
"I'm afraid I'm a nuisance," he apologized, "but I take cream with my coffee."
"I'm sorry, I forgot."
She brought a small cream pitcher.
The old man turned the pitcher in his hand. It was lopsided and made of inferior clay "Do you make your own pottery, too?"
"Such as it is."
"Charming." He set down the pitcher and leaned back with a sigh. "You know, I pretended I did not want a rest, but I could hardly wait to see the country again."
"You weren't born in the city?"