“Thank you, lad, thank you.” He stooped as if in the act of sitting down, and Reuben, passing an arm about his waist, led him to an armchair. “Thank you, lad,” he said again. An eight-day clock ticked in a neighboring room. “That was how it came to pass,” said the old man, in a voice so strangely commonplace that Reuben started at it. “Ah! That was how it came to pass.” He was silent again for two or three minutes, and the clock ticked on. “That was how it came to pass,” he said again. With great deliberation he set his hands together, finger by finger, in the shape of a wedge, and then pushing them between his knees, bent his head above them, and seemed to stare at the dim pattern of the carpet. He was silent for a long time now, and sat as still as if he were carved in stone. “Who's there?” he cried, suddenly looking up. “I am here, uncle,” Reuben answered. “Yes, yes,” said Ezra. “Reuben. Yes, of course. And that was how it came to pass.” Reuben, with a burning and choking sensation in his throat, stood in his place, not knowing what to say or do. “Wheer is it?” asked Ezra, looking up again. Reuben handed him the note, and he sat with bent head above it for a long time. “Reuben, lad,” he said then, “I'll wish thee a good-mornin'. I'm like to be poor company, and to tell the truth, lad, I want to be by mysen for a while. I've been shook a bit, my lad, I've been shook a bit.” As he spoke thus he arose, and with his hands folded behind him walked to and fro. His face was grayer than common, and the bright color which generally marked his cheeks was flown; but it was plain to see that he had recovered full possession of himself, though he was still much agitated. Reuben went away in silence, and Ezra continued to pace the room for an hour. His house-keeper appeared to tell him that breakfast was on the table, but though he answered in his customary manner he took no further notice. She came again to tell him with a voice of complaint that everything was cold and spoiled. “Well, well, woman,” said Ezra, “leave it theer.” He went on walking up and down, until, without any acceleration of his pace, he changed the direction of his walk and passed out at the door, feeling in the darkened little passage for his hat. “You sha'n't goo out wi' nothing on your stomach,” said the servant, who had been watching and waiting to see what he would do. Ezra, to satisfy her, poured out and drank a cup of coffee, and then walked out into the street, bending his steps in the direction of Rachel's cottage. Twice on the way he paused and half drew from his waistcoat-pocket the yellow old note which had so long lingered on its way to him, but each time he returned it without looking at it, and walked on again.