Larry went inside and sat down in the chair nearest the door. The neatness and order of the room struck even his indifferent eyes, so unexpected was it on the Point.
“Well?” Peneluna looked at her visitor coolly. Larry did 98 not speak at once––he was going to get the house next door; he must have it and he did not want to make any mistakes with the grim, silent woman near him. He was not considering the truth, but he was selecting the best lies that occurred to him; the ones most likely to appeal to his future landlady.
“Miss Peneluna,” he began finally, but the stiff lips interrupted him:
“Mrs. Sniff.”
“Good Lord! Mrs. Sniff, then. You see, I didn’t know you were married.”
“Didn’t you? You might not know everything that goes on. You don’t trouble us much. Your goings and comings leave us strangers.”
Larry did not reply. He was manufacturing tears, and presently, to Peneluna’s amazement, they glistened on his cheeks.
“I wonder”––Larry’s voice trembled––“I wonder if I can speak openly to you, Mrs.––Mrs. Sniff? You were in my father’s house; he trusted you. I do not seem to have any one but you at this crisis.”
Peneluna sneezed. She had a terrible habit of sneezing at will––it was positively shocking.
“I guess there ain’t any reason for you not speaking out your ideas to me,” she said cautiously. “I ain’t much of a fount of wisdom, but I ain’t a babbling brook, neither.”