Silas Tomlin looked hard at Mrs. Absalom, his little black eyes glistening under his coarse, heavy eyebrows like those of some wild animal. He was not a prepossessing man. He was so bald that he was compelled to wear a skull-cap, and the edge of this showed beneath the brim of his chimney-pot hat. His face needed a razor; and the grey beard coming through the cuticle, gave a ghastly, bluish tint to the pallor of his countenance. His broadcloth coat--Mrs. Absalom called it a "shadbelly"--was greasy at the collar, and worn at the seams, and his waistcoat was stained with ambeer. His trousers, which were much too large for him, bagged at the knees, and his boots were run down at the heels. Though he was temperate to the last degree, he had the appearance of a man who is the victim of some artificial stimulant. "What put that idea in your head, Mrs. Goodlett?" he asked, after looking long and searchingly at Mrs. Absalom. "Well, I allowed that when you was countin' out your cash, a thrip or two mought have slipped through the cracks in the floor," she replied; "sech things have happened before now." He wiped his thin lips with his lean forefinger, and stood hesitating, whereupon Mrs. Absalom remarked: "It sha'n't cost you a cent ef you'll come in. Ab'll be here purty soon ef somebody ain't been fool enough to give him his dinner. His health'll fail him long before his appetite does. Show Mr. Tomlin in the parlour, Gabriel, an' I'll see about Ab's dinner; I don't want it to burn to a cracklin' before he gits it." Silas Tomlin went into the parlour and sat down, while Gabriel stood hesitating, not knowing what to do or say. He was embarrassed, and Silas Tomlin saw it. "Oh, take a seat," he said, with a show of impatience. "What are you doing for yourself, Tolliver? You're a big boy now, and you ought to be making good money. We'll all have to work now: we'll have to buckle right down to it. The way I look at it, the man who is doing nothing is throwing money away; yes, sir, throwing it away. What does Adam Smith say? Why, he says----" Gabriel never found out what particular statement of Adam Smith was to be thrown at his head, for at that moment, Mr. Goodlett called out from the dining-room: "Si Tomlin in there, Gabriel? Well, fetch him out here whar I live at. I ain't got no parlours for company." By the time that Gabriel had led Mr. Silas Tomlin into the dining-room, Mr. Goodlett had a plate of victuals carrying it to the kitchen; and he remarked as he went along, "I got nuther parlours nor dinin'-rooms: fetch him out here to the kitchen whar we both b'long at."