Peter was anxiously watching the face above him. "Well, you see, Miranda not being here, and all--makes it kind of hard. She's awful particular about the linen closet, and I don't know what sheets----" "Never mind the sheets," Peter interrupted, quickly. "I'll sleep on the floor, if necessary. I've just got to stay to-night, Mr. Lord, and if you don't take me in----" "Wait a second, and I'll come down," said Walter Lord, disappearing from the window with the abruptness of a Jack-in-the-box. "He'll take ye, all right," Josh called out, encouragingly, as he turned his little car. "Lemme know when ye want me agin," and was gone, in a cloud of dust. "If you wouldn't mind coming around this way, Mr. Clancy----" The entire figure of Walter Lord disclosed itself at the corner of the house, and the figure was in strict accord with the face. Slender, bent, and old it was, but almost jauntily clad. Light gray trousers, somewhat stained with chemicals, were carefully pressed into a knife-like crease down the front. A double-breasted waistcoat of starched white duck sported a long festoon of old worn gold watch-chain. Around his neck was a standing collar with tall points, and so large that it made his thin neck look, so Peter thought, like a lily in a pot. About the collar was tied a long, black "shoe-string" tie of silk. He was just settling his thin shoulders into a wide-lapelled, square-tailed, black broadcloth coat which he had obviously donned for the occasion. "Come this way, Mr. Clancy," he repeated. "The front door sticks in this warm, damp weather, for we scarcely ever use it. All our friends come in here," and with a gracious, hospitable gesture, he held open the side door for Peter to pass. Peter had just time to notice that there was a small outside stairway leading to the second floor, built on at this end of the house, and that, upon the second floor, there was a fairly good-sized slanting window, and on the roof a skylight. "The photographic studio," thought Peter, as he followed Lord into the house. As he crossed the threshold, he unostentatiously dropped his small handbag just inside the door. "I'm afraid I can't make you very comfortable, Mr. Clancy," said the old man, doubtfully, drawing forward a sagging rocker with an elaborate "tidy" on the back. "Won't you sit down? My sister has gone over to Letty Bowen's just for the day and to spend the night. She'll be home in the morning. Too bad, too bad. There's only a cold supper. D'you mind cold suppers? I rather like 'em myself, this hot weather--and I said to Miranda, 'I'll be as happy as a clam at high tide.' But I didn't expect to have a visitor. (Let me take your hat.) Not that I'm not always glad of company. Miranda says I'm worse than misery. (Misery loves company, you know. Her joke.) But I do like to see new people--new faces. Keeps you young, don't you think?--Oh, I almost forgot. Do have a cigar----"