The situation was a bit awkward, and to relieve it Uncle John remarked in his cheery voice:
"Well, Mr. Jones, we meet again, you see."
The man turned slowly and faced him; then bowed in a mechanical way and proceeded to the elevator, into which he disappeared.
Naturally Uncle John was indignant.
"Confound the fellow!" he exclaimed. "He's worse than a boor. But perhaps his early education was neglected."
"Did you call him Mr. Jones, sir?" asked Myrtle in a voice that trembled with excitement.
"Yes, my dear; but it is not your Uncle Anson. I've inquired about him. The Joneses are pretty thick, wherever you go; but I hope not many are like this fellow."
"Something's wrong with him," declared Patsy. "He's had some sad bereavement—a great blow of some sort—and it has made him somber and melancholy. He doesn't seem to know he acts rudely. You can tell by the man's eyes that he is unhappy."
"His eyes have neither color nor expression," remarked Beth. "At his best, this Mr. Jones must have been an undesirable acquaintance."
"You can't be sure of that," returned Patsy; "and I'm positive my theory is correct. More and more am I inclined to agree with Myrtle that he is disgusted with life, and longs to end it."