"If Mr. Edward is not expecting you," she said, "I don't know that I should advise you to go in. He is not very well just now—and he is sometimes rather strange."
"I know," I said. "I quite understand; but he will be willing to see me when he knows what I have come about. Shall I find him yonder?"
I pointed towards an open door leading to which was a neat, graveled path lined by well-kept flower-beds, and which I took to be the main entrance to the farm.
"Well, sir," said the woman doubtfully, "they'll tell you there if Mr. Edward is to be seen; but I don't advise it"
"That's all right!" I cried, and proceeded in the direction of the doorway.
I presently obtained a view of a cozily furnished room, where a white-haired old lady was bustling about engaged in some domestic duties. I paused at the threshold.
"My name is Addison," I said. "Would it be possible for me to have a few minutes' conversation with Mr. Edward Hines?"
The old lady (whom I suspected to be the mother of the youth whom I was seeking) paused in the midst of her task and looked at me in a troubled way. It was evident enough that the reputation of Mr. Edward was the same in his home as elsewhere, and it occurred to me that his upbringing must have been a very bad one.
"Well," she replied, after this eloquent pause, "he's up in his room certainly, but he doesn't like to see visitors, I know."
"He will be perfectly willing to see me," I said, confidently. "I have news of importance for him"—and as she continued to look at me in that troubled way: "I know of his present disfigurement," I explained. "You need not be afraid of any unpleasant scenes."