"Middling ould—not very ould, either; he wasn't what you'd call a young man," replied the driver.
"Was he fifty?"
"He might be; and then again he might not be," answered the man.
This was very definite, and it was plain to me that I could not find out from such a stupid fellow whether or not it was Mr. McKim who had sent him. I decided that Kate should not go to Madison Place that day. It would be much better for me to see her uncle first, for such a course would save her from an unpleasant scene, if he decided not to receive her. I told the hackman we should not go; and the fellow growled about his fare, but finally drove off, declaring that the people in Madison Place should pay him for his trouble.
I was annoyed by the incident, and was afraid it would prejudice Kate's uncle—if he had returned—against her, or if he had not, that his wife would be vexed. Before the hack was out of sight, I was sorry I had not permitted Kate to go. I talked the matter over with her, and with her kind friends, who thought I had been over-nice about the matter.
About seven o'clock, the same hackman came again. I was sent for, and met him in the office. He was as surly and cross as before, though his face wore something like an expression of triumph this time.
"It's a dale of throuble you're makin for your friends," said he, handing me a note.
"You shall be paid for all the trouble I give you," I replied, offended at the fellow's impudence.
I glanced at the note, and found it was directed to Kate. I carried it up to her, and after she had read it, she handed it to me.
"My uncle has returned," said she. "He seems to be real good and kind—don't he?"