"Mr. St. John!" exclaimed Mrs. Manly, in astonishment. "Is it possible that this is my old friend St. John?"
"Madam," said the veteran, with difficulty keeping up his cold, formal exterior, "I hardly expected you would do me the honor to remember one so unworthy;" bending lower than before, and raising his hat again, while his lips twitched nervously under his thick mustache.
"Why, where did you ever see him, mother?" cried Frank, with eager interest.
"Mr. St. John was an old friend of your grandfather's, Frank. Surely, sir, you have not forgotten the little girl you used to take on your knee and feed with candy?"—for the old man was still looking severe and distant.
"I have not forgotten many pleasant things—and some not so pleasant, which I would have forgotten by every body." And the old drummer gave his mustache a vindictive pull.
"Be sure," said Mrs. Manly, "I remember nothing of you that was not kind and honorable. I think you must have known who my son was, you have been so good to him. But why did you not inform him, or me through him, who you were? I would have been so glad to know about you."
"I hardly imagined that."—The old cynical smile curled the heavy mustache.—"And if I could be of any service to your son, it was needless for you to know of it. I was Mr. St. John when you knew me; but I am nobody but Old Sinjin now. Madam, I wish you a very good-day, and much happiness. Your servant, sir!"
And shaking hands stiffly, first with Mrs. Manly, then with her husband, the strange old man stalked away.
"Who is he? what is it about him?" asked Frank, stung with curiosity. "Never did I think you knew Old Sinjin."
"Your father knows about him, and I will tell you some time," said Mrs. Manly, her eyes following the retreating figure with looks of deep compassion. "In the mean time, be very kind to him, very gentle and respectful, my son."