“It’s you, is it?” says the man, testily. “What has brought you back? and empty-handed I’ll be bound.”
The old woman crossed the floor, seated herself in the most reliable chair, and turning her face toward her companion said, sharply:
“You’re an old fool!”
Not at all discomposed by this familiar announcement, the man closed and barred the door, and then approached the woman, who was taking from her pocket a crumpled newspaper.
“What have you got there?”
“You wait,” significantly, “and don’t tell me that I come empty-handed.”
“Ah! you don’t mean—”
Again the look of terror crossed his face, and he left the sentence unfinished.
“Old man, you are a fool! Now, listen: Nance and I had got our bags nearly filled, when I found this,” striking the paper with her forefinger. “It blew right under my feet, around a corner. It’s the morning paper.”
“Well, well!”