ER IV

I sat up on the couch. Mr. Colton knocked the ashes from his cigar,
waited an instant, and then repeated his question.

"Did you get my letter?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Oh, you did. I was afraid that man of mine might have forgotten to mail
it."

"No, I got it. Won't you--er--won't you sit down?" He pulled the
armchair toward him and sat down. I noticed that he had a habit of doing
things quickly. His sentences were short and to the point and he spoke
and acted like one accustomed to having his own way. He crossed his
knees and looked about the little building.

"It is a pleasant day," I observed, for the sake of saying something.
He did not seem to hear me, or, if he did, he was not interested in the
weather. For my part I found the situation embarrassing. I knew what his
next question would be, and I did not know how to answer. Sure enough,
he asked it.

"I wrote you to come over to my place this forenoon," he said. "You
didn't come."

"No. I--"

"Why not?"

Here was the issue joined. Here, if ever, was the opportunity to assert
my independence a la Jed Dean and Alvin Baker. But to assert it now,
after he had done the unexpected, after the mountain had come to
Mahomet, seemed caddish and ridiculous. So I temporized, weakly.

"I didn't read your letter until about noon," I said.

"I see. Well, I waited until two o'clock and then I decided to hunt you
up. I called at your house. The woman there said you were down here.
Your mother?"

"No." My answer was prompt and sharp enough this time. It was natural,
perhaps, that he should presume Dorinda to be my mother, but I did not
like it.

He paid absolutely no attention to the tone of my reply or its curtness.
He did not refer to Dorinda again. She might have been my wife or my
great-aunt for all he cared.

"This your workshop?" he asked, abruptly. Then, nodding toward the
dismembered engine, "What are you? a boat builder?"

"No, not exactly."

"What's the price of a boat like that?" indicating the Comfort with a
kick in her direction.

"About two hundred and fifty dollars, I believe," I answered.

"You believe! Don't you know?"

"No. I bought that boat second-hand."

He did not refer to the boat again; apparently forgot it altogether. His
next move was to rise and turn toward the door. I watched him, wondering
what was going to happen next. He had a habit of jumping from one
subject to another which was bewildering.

"What's that