"Hands are cold. Do you mind if I put one in your coat pocket?"
Did he mind? He did not. He was very polite at first and emptied the pocket of various things, including a letter which he mentioned casually was a bill. But after a moment he slid his hand in on top of mine.
"You're a wonderful young person," he said, "and you've got me going."
Then he squeezed the hand until it hurt. Suddenly he looked up.
"Great Scott!" he said. "There's Henry!"
Of course it was Henry. He had brought a catalogue and was going painstakingly from one picture to another. He did not see us at first, and we had time to stand up and be looking at a landscape when he got to us. He looked moderately surprised and waited to mark something in the catalogue before he joined us.
"Bully show, isn't it?" he said cheerfully. "Never saw so many good 'uns. Well, what are you children up to?"
"Dropped in to get warm," said Russell. And I was going to add something, but Henry's interest in us had passed evidently. He marked another cross in the catalogue and went on, with the light shining on his red hair and his soul clearly as uplifted as his chin.
"You needn't worry about Henry," I said. "He's a friend of the family, and I'll just call him up and tell him not to say anything."
"I used to think he was fond of you."