Adventures in Contentment

"You are the man I have been expecting." He did not reply, only flashed his eyes up at me, wherein fear deepened. "I have been saving up a coat for you," I said, "and a pair of shoes. They are not much worn," I said, "but a little too small for me. I think they will fit you." He looked at me again, not sharply, but with a sort of weak cunning. So far he had not said a word. "I think our supper is nearly ready," I said: "let us go in." "No, mister," he mumbled, "a bite out here--no, mister"--and then, as though the sound of his own voice inspired him, he grew declamatory. "I'm a respectable man, mister, plumber by trade, but----" "But," I interrupted, "you can't get any work, you're cold and you haven't had anything to eat for two days, so you are walking out here in the country where we farmers have no plumbing to do. At home you have a starving wife and three small children----" "Six, mister----" "Well, six--And now we will go in to supper." I led him into the entry way and poured for him a big basin of hot water. As I stepped out again with a comb he was slinking toward the doorway. "Here," I said, "is a comb; we are having supper now in a few minutes." I wish I could picture Harriet's face when I brought him into her immaculate kitchen. But I gave her a look, one of the commanding sort that I can put on in times of great emergency, and she silently laid another place at the table.