The old man espied Andy just before he got within hearing distance, and guessed his errand.
“Howdy do, Andy Gordon?” he said, in a quavering voice.
“All right!” answered Andy, coolly.
If it had been anyone else, he would have added, “thank you,” but he did not feel like being ordinarily polite to the man who was conspiring to defraud his mother.
“I’m tollable myself,” said Joshua, though Andy had not inquired. “The rheumatiz catches me sometimes and hurts me a sight.”
“You ought to expect it at your age,” said Andy.
“I ain’t so very old,” said Mr. Starr, uneasily.
“How old are you?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“That seems pretty old to me.”