The house was back from the street a bit—a modest mansion of brick, dignifiedly old. Tall twin columns flanked the front door and supported the roof of the porch. Harlan had never seen the residence of General Waymouth before, but that exterior seemed fitted to the man, such as he knew him to be.
He admitted them himself, when they had waited a few moments after sounding alarm with the ancient knocker. Framed in the door, he was a picturesque figure. His abundant white hair hung straight down over his ears, and curled outward at the ends; his short beard was snowy, but there was healthful ruddiness on his face, and though his figure, tall above the average, stooped a bit, he walked briskly ahead of them into the library, crying delighted welcome over his shoulder. His meeting with Thelismer Thornton had been almost an embrace.
"And this boosting big chap is Harlan—my grand-baby, Vard! Guess you used to see him at 'The Barracks' when he was smaller. Since then he's been trying to outgrow one of our spruce-trees."
The ex-Governor gave Harlan his left hand. The empty sleeve of the right arm was pinned to the shoulder.
"The old Yankee stock doesn't need a step-ladder to stand on to light the moon, so they used to say."
He rolled chairs close to each other and urged them to sit, with the anxious hospitality of the old man who has grown to prize the narrowing circle of his intimates.
"Smoke, Thelismer," he pleaded. "Stretch out and smoke. I always like to see you smoke. You take so much comfort. I sometimes wish I'd learned to smoke. Old age gets lonely once in a while. Perhaps a good cigar might be a consolation."
"So you do get lonesome sometimes, Vard?" inquired the Duke.
"It's a lonesome age when you're eighty, comrade. You probably find it so yourself. There are so few of one's old friends that live to be eighty."
Then they fell into discourse, eager, wistful reminiscences such as come to the lips of old friends who meet infrequently. The young man, sitting close in the circle, listened appreciatively. This courtly old soldier, lawyer, Governor, and kindly gentleman had been to him since boyhood, as he had to the understanding youth of his State, an ideal knight of the old régime. And so the hours slipped past, and he sat listening.