It was one Sunday afternoon during this stage of Mack's fight, while Mack and 'Thusia and Amy were on the porch and David taking his between-sermon nap in his great chair, that the great opportunity came to David's door. It came in the form of a man of sixty years, silk-hatted and frock-coated. He walked slowly up the street from the direction of the town, and when he reached David's gate he paused and read the number painted on the riser of the porch step, opened the gate and entered. He removed his hat and extended his hand to 'Thusia.
“You are Mrs. Dean, I know,” he said, smiling. “My name is Benton, and I don't think you know me. Mr. Dean is in?”
There were many men of many kinds came to David's door from one end of a year to the other, but never had a man come whose face so quickened 'Thusia's heart. It was a strongly modeled face and gave an impression of power. The nose was too large and the lips were too large, so were the brows, so were all the features. It was a face that was too large for itself, it left no room for the eyes, which had to peer out as best they could from between the brows that crowded them from above, and the cheekbones that crowded them from below, but they were kind, keen, sane eyes; they were even twinkling eyes. The man was rather too stout and his skin was coarse-pored, almost as if pitted. 'Thusia had never seen a homelier man, and yet she liked him from the moment he spoke. It was partly his voice, full, soft and, in some way, satisfying. She felt he was a big man and a good man and an honest man.
“Yes, Mr. Dean is in,” she said. “I think he is napping. If you will just rest a minute until I see—”
David, as was his habit when his visitors were unknown to him, came to the door. 'Thusia slipped into the kitchen. The day was hot and Mr. Benton was hot, and there were lemons and ice in the refrigerator, perhaps a pitcher of lemonade all ready to serve with thin cakes.
“Mr. Benton, my wife said, I think!” asked David. “Shall we sit out here or go inside!”
“Might go inside,” said the visitor, and David led the way into the study. Mr. Benton placed his hat on the floor beside the chair David placed for him, unbuttoned his coat and breathed deeply.
“Quite a hill you are perched on here,” he said. “Fat man's misery on a day like this. I suppose you saw me in church this morning!”
“Yes. I tried to reach you after the service, but you slipped out.”
“I ran away,” admitted Mr. Benton. “I wanted to think that sermon over and cool down after it. It was a good sermon.”