“Excuse me, Mr. Petersen,” she said—he wouldn’t allow “sir”—“But which of the young ladies did you see? I hear that one of them is very handsome.”
He reflected. No, Minnie was not very handsome; nice looking, and with fine dark eyes, but not handsome.
He smiled a little.
“It’s hard to say. I’m not a judge, Mrs. Hansen. The one I saw was dark——”
“They’re both dark. But one’s——”
“This rabbit stew is very good, Mrs. Hansen,” he interposed, and she took the hint and left him to read the local paper in peace, as was his custom during dinner.
Afterwards he went out to sit on his little porch and smoke. And thought very kindly of the “young orphan,” who hadn’t a penny.
The least he could do, he decided, was not to trouble them about the rent—a decision which suited them, apparently, for he neither saw nor heard anything of the Defoe family for a long time. In fact, until he was needed by one of them.