He seemed to be a very particular kind of customer.
"Oh, go on! go on!" he exclaimed presently. "Wait on those other people while I make up my mind."
While Mr. Dearborn was settling the price of his turkeys, the old gentleman poked around like an inquisitive boy, thumping the pumpkins, smelling the coffee, and taking occasional picks at the raisins. Presently he stopped in front of Steven with a broad, friendly smile on his face.
"You're from the country, ain't you?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Steven in astonishment.
"Came from there myself, once," he continued with a chuckle. "Law, law! You'd never think it now. Fifty years makes a heap o' difference."
He took another turn among the salt barrels and cracker boxes, then asked suddenly, "What's your name, sonny?"
"Steven," answered the boy, still more surprised.
The old fellow gave another chuckle and rubbed his hands together delightedly. "Just hear that, will you!" he exclaimed. "Why, that's my name, my very own name, sir! Well, well, well, well!"
He stared at the child until he began to feel foolish and uncomfortable. What image of his own vanished youth did that boyish face recall to the eccentric old banker?