"I shouldn't," said Lois. "When should an umbrella be out walking, but in the rain?"
"Well, go along. What sort of a man is he? and what brings him to
Shampuashuh?"
"He came to see Mrs. Barclay," said Madge.
"He's a sort of man you are willin' to take trouble for," said Charity. "Real nice, and considerate; and to hear him talk, it is as good as a book; and he's awfully polite. You should have seen him marching in here with Lois's wet cloak, out to the kitchen with it, and hangin' it up. So to pay, I turned round and hung up his'n. One good turn deserves another, I told him. But at first, I declare, I thought I couldn't keep from laughin'."
Mrs. Marx laughed a little here. "I know the sort," she said. "Wears kid gloves always and a little line of hair over his upper lip, and is lazy like. I would lose all my patience to have one o' them round for long, smokin' a cigar every other thing, and poisonin' all the air for half a mile."
"I think he is sort o' lazy," said Charity.
"He don't smoke," said Lois.
"Yes he does," said Madge. "I found an end of cigar just down by the front steps, when I was sweeping."
"I don't think he's a lazy man, either," said Lois. "That slow, easy way does not mean laziness."
"What does it mean?" inquired Mrs. Marx sharply.