On Monday morning, shortly after the McKee prolonged breakfast was over, a
small man of perhaps fifty, with iron-gray hair and a sparse goatee, made
his way along the Street. He moved with the air of one having a definite
destination but a by no means definite reception.
As he walked along he eyed with a professional glance the ailanthus and
maple trees which, with an occasional poplar, lined the Street. At the
door of Mrs. McKee's boarding-house he stopped. Owing to a slight change
in the grade of the street, the McKee house had no stoop, but one flat
doorstep. Thus it was possible to ring the doorbell from the pavement, and
this the stranger did. It gave him a curious appearance of being ready to
cut and run if things were unfavorable.
For a moment things were indeed unfavorable. Mrs. McKee herself opened the
door. She recognized him at once, but no smile met the nervous one that
formed itself on the stranger's face.
"Oh, it's you, is it?"
"It's me, Mrs. McKee."
"Well?"
He made a conciliatory effort.
"I was thinking, as I came along," he said, "that you and the neighbors had
better get after these here caterpillars. Look at them maples, now."
"If you want to see Tillie, she's busy."
"I only want to say how-d 'ye-do. I'm just on my way through town."
"I'll say it for you."
A certain doggedness took the place of his tentative smile.
"I'll say it to myself, I guess. I don't want any unpleasantness, but I've
come a good ways to see her and I'll hang around until I do."
Mrs. McKee knew herself routed, and retreated to the kitchen.
"You're wanted out front," she said.
"Who is it?"
"Never mind. Only, my advice to you is, don't be a fool."
Tillie went suddenly pale. The hands with which she tied a white apron
over her gingham one were shaking.
Her visitor had accepted the open door as permission to enter and was
standing in the hall.
He went rather white himself when he saw Tillie coming toward him down the
hall. He knew that for Tillie this visit would mean that he was free--and
he was not free. Sheer terror of his errand filled him.
"Well, here I am, Tillie."
"All dressed up and highly perfumed!" said poor Tillie, with the question
in her eyes. "You're quite a stranger, Mr. Schwitter."
"I was passing through, and I just thought I'd call around and tell you--My
God, Tillie, I'm glad to see you!"