Mr. Bixby never in his life more desired to be alone, and yet there was something in this old man which so attracted him that he could not correct his mistake. He felt a sudden fascination and desire to know more of him. Bangs was away and could not be seen. The gentleman could not be very well acquainted with Bangs, very probably never had seen him, or he would not have made such an error. But nothing but the influence which seemed to proceed from his visitor could have induced Mr. Bixby to answer as he did. "Thank you, sir. Pray, take this chair." As he said this, he arose and wheeled an easy-chair to the other side of the table. The elderly gentleman sat down. "You have a very cheerful apartment here, Mr. Bangs." "Yes. I always like to be comfortable." "Of course," said the elderly gentleman. "Will you remove your overcoat, sir?" asked Mr. Bixby, and immediately repented it. "Oh, no, I shall stop but a moment." There was an interval of silence. A block of coal broke open in the grate and fell apart. A jet of gas burst forth and burned, then sputtered and went out. Mr. Bixby wondered on what business he had come, and why he did not open the subject at once, if he was only intending to stop a moment. "It is very disagreeable weather out," said the man with the pompous forelock, interrupting his reflections. "Snowing?" asked Bixby. "No--sleet." "Very unpleasant to have far to go such a night," suggested Bixby, who could think of nothing better to say. "Not at all," responded the old gentleman, authoritatively. Bixby was silent again. The old gentleman, leaning with his elbow on the table, began again. "You like to live well, Mr. Bangs?" "I try to," answered Mr. Bixby. "Yes." "This must be some relative of Bangs come to deliver him a lecture on his course of life. Why don't he broach his advice at once?" thought Mr. Bixby. The visitor here pulled a glove from his right hand, ran his fingers through his hair, and then, in a more business-like tone, spoke again: "Although a stranger to you personally, Mr. Bangs, I have always taken a great interest in your family. Mr. Bangs, I knew your father." "Indeed! I never heard him speak--" "No, I dare say; it was near the end of his life. I was near by, and rendered him some assistance, when he died suddenly of apoplexy. He was not so much of a man as your grandfather." "Was he not?" asked Mr. Bixby, musingly. He was thinking how old the grandfather of his friend Bangs must have been. "No," continued the elderly gentleman; "but even his judgment I never considered equal to that of your great-grandfather." "Here is, indeed, a friend--a friend of the family. Why is Mr. Bangs away?" thought Mr. Bixby, and he bent his head a little, and looked under the drop-light, to get a view of his visitor. He saw only the reflection on his spectacles, and drew back suddenly, for fear of being detected.