"Will you show him in here, or shall I come and fetch him?"

"Well! of all the cantankerous--here! come in, you! she wants to see
you!" and Direxia, holding the door in her hand, beckoned angrily to
some one invisible. There was a murmur, a reluctant shuffle, and a man
appeared in the doorway and stood lowering, his eyes fixed on the
ground; a tall, slight man, with stooping shoulders, and delicate
pointed features. He was shabbily dressed, yet there was something
fastidious in his air, and it was noticeable that the threadbare clothes
were clean.

Mrs. Tree looked at him; looked again. "What do you want here?" she
asked, abruptly.

The man's eyes crept forward to her little feet, resting on the brass
fender, and stopped there.

"I asked for food," he said. "I am hungry."

"Are you a tramp?"

"Yes, madam."

"Anything else?"

The man was silent.

"There!" said Direxia, impatiently. "That'll do. Come out into the
kitchen and I'll give ye something in a bag, and you can take it with
you."

"I shall be pleased to have you take supper with me, sir!" said the old
lady, pointedly addressing the tramp. "Direxia, set a place for this
gentleman."

The color rushed over the man's face. He started, and his eyes crept
half-way up the old lady's dress, then dropped again.

"I--cannot, madam!" he said, with an effort. "I thank you, but you must
excuse me."

"Why can't you?"

This time the eyes travelled as far as the diamond brooch, and rested
there curiously.

"You must excuse me!" repeated the man, laboriously. "If your woman will
give me a morsel in the kitchen--or--I'd better go at once!" he said,
breaking off suddenly. "Good evening!"

"Stop!" said Mrs. Tree, striking her ebony stick sharply on the floor.
There was an instant of dead silence, no one stirring.

"Direxia," she added, presently, "go and set another place for supper!"

Direxia hesitated. The stick struck the floor again, and she vanished,
muttering.

"Shut the door!" Mrs. Tree commanded, addressing the stranger. "Come
here and sit down! No, not on that cheer. Take the ottoman with the bead
puppy on it. There!"

As the man drew forward the ottoman without looking at it, and sat down,
she leaned back easily in her chair, and spoke in a half-confidential
tone:

"I get crumpled up, sitting here alone. Some day I shall turn to wood. I
like a new face and a new notion. I had a grandson who used to live with
me, and I'm lonesome since he died