While he was energetically pulling out nails and removing strips of wood Brick came lounging up the steps holding a mayflower between his teeth.
“Mass’ Titus, Jennie she say an ole gen’l’man jus’ come from New York want to see de Jedge.”
“‘Jedge’ has gone driving,” said Titus, briefly.
“Well, but dat ole gen’l’man won’t take no for yes. He says he mus’ see some one.”
“Bring him out here, then.”
Brick hesitated. He had some idea of propriety, and he did not like to think of “young Mass’ Titus” receiving company in the pigeon loft.
Titus understood him. “Do you suppose I’d leave the pigeons?” he said, indignantly. “They’ve had a hot, tiresome journey. I’ve got to feed and water them. Bring the old gentleman out here if he can’t wait. If he can, I’ll go in the house later.”
Brick disappeared, and presently returned, followed by a thin, slight, elderly man who carried his hands in his pockets.
“Sorry to bring you out here, sir,” said Titus, politely, “but these birds are suffering and I can’t leave them. Will you sit down?” and he nodded toward a stool.
The gentleman remained standing, and with a pair of remarkably small eyes listlessly surveyed the roomy, bright pigeon loft, the birds at the open windows, and the wiry, athletic young figure of Titus himself.