"Mother wants to know," repeated Ned Higgins, more dis-

146



THE PYNCHEON OF TO-DAY 147

tinctly, **how Old Maid Pyncheon's brother does? Folks say
he has got home."

"My cousin Hepzibah*s brother 1" exclaimed Phoebe, sur-
prised at this sudden explanation of the relationship between
Hebzibah and her guest. "Her brother I And where can he
have been?"

The little boy only put his thumb to his broad snub-nose,
with that look of shrewdness which a child, spending much
of his time in the street, so soon learns to throw over his
features, however unintelligent in themselves. Then as
Phoebe continued to gaze at him, without answering his
mother's message, he took his departure.
As the child went down the steps, a gentleman ascended
them, and made his entrance into the shop. It was the
portly, and, had it possessed the advantage of a little more
height, would have been the stately figure of a man consider-
ably in the decline of life, dressed in a black suit of some thin
stuff, resembling broadcloth as closely as possible. A gold-
headed cane, of rare Oriental wood, added materially to the
high respectability of his aspect, as did also a white neckcloth
of the utmost snowy purity, and the conscientious polish of
his boots. His dark, square countenance, with its almost
shaggy depth of eyebrows, was naturally impressive, and
would, perhaps, have been rather stem, had not the gentle-
man considerately taken upon himself to mitigate the harsh
effect by a look of exceeding good-humor and benevolence.
