The elder of the group, a venerable gentleman, made answer for the rest:
“How’ do,” he said shortly.
Somewhat abashed at the coolness of his reception, the young man tried again:
“Looks rather like rain,” he said.
“ ’Twon’t rain,” said the old man in a tone of finality.
“But I rather thought from the looks of these clouds——”
“ ’Twon’t rain,” repeated the ancient in the voice of one who is not used to being argued with.
A daunting silence ensued. The stranger fidgeted in his embarrassment. The old man fixed him with a cold and hostile eye.
“What mout your name be?” he inquired, as though desirous properly to classify a curious zoölogical specimen.
“My name is Nelson—Herbert Nelson,” stated the youth.