“No, he occupies the right side.”
Gerald hesitated a moment at the gate and then walked in. He was considering how he should introduce himself.
Thomas Hastings himself answered the knock on the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves. There was a beard of nearly a week’s growth on his cheeks, and he looked as neglected as the tenement which he occupied. He eyed Gerald in some surprise, and waited for him to mention his business.
“Are you Mr. Thomas Hastings?” asked the young visitor.
“Yes.”
“Are you acquainted with Bradley Wentworth of Seneca, Illinois?”
“Yes, do you come from him?” asked Hastings, eagerly.
“No, but I would like to talk with you about him. May I come in?”
Hastings looked backward, and the disordered rooms struck him with a sudden sense of shame.
“No,” he said, “we can talk better outside. Wait a minute and I’ll be with you.”