The florid old gentleman took a seat in front of them and continued to fan himself. The conductor came through the car.
"Warm spell we're having for October, Mr. Hatt," he said, as he punched the commutation-ticket that was offered him.
Mary Leonard and Lucy Eastman gazed spellbound at the back of Mr. Hatt's bald head. They were too amazed to look away from it at each other.
"It—it must be his father," gasped Lucy Eastman. "He looks—a little—like him."
"Then it's his father come back!" returned Mary in an impatient whisper. "His father died before we ever went to Englefield; and, don't you remember, he was always fanning himself?"
Their fascinated gaze left the shiny pink surface of Samuel Hatt's head, and their eyes met.
"I hope he won't see us," giggled Lucy.
"I hope not. Let's look the other way."
In a few minutes Mr. Hatt rose slowly and portentously, and, turning, made a solemn but wavering way down the car to greet a man who sat just across the aisle from Mary Leonard. Both the women avoided his eyes, blushing a little and with the fear of untimely mirth about their lips.
As he talked with their neighbor, however, they ventured to look at him, and as he turned to go back his slow, deliberate glance fell upon them, rested a moment, and, without a flicker of recognition, passed on, and he resumed his place.