"Hm! Seth Quin 's a fool, 'n' always wuz," replied the cook, with a
seemingly uncalled-for acerbity of tone. "I've allus observed that them
that hez the most to say about topknots hez the least idea of what
topknots really is. There ain't a touch o' topknot about that ere girl:
she's come o' real humbly people. Anybody with half an eye can see that.
Good gracious! I believe she's goin' to stand still, and let old man
Wheeler run over her. Look out there, look out, gal!" screamed the cook,
and pounded vigorously with her rolling-pin on the side of the door to
rouse Mercy's attention. Mercy turned just in time to confront a stout,
red-faced, old gentleman with a big cane, who was literally on the point
of walking over her. He was so near that, as she turned, he started back
as if she had hit him in the breast.

"God bless my soul, God bless my soul, miss!" he exclaimed, in his
excitement, striking his cane rapidly against the ground. "I beg your
pardon, beg pardon, miss. Bad habit of mine, very bad habit,--walk along
without looking. Walked on a dog the other day; hurt dog; tumbled down
myself, nearly broke my leg. Bad habit, miss,--bad habit; too old to
change, too old to change. Beg pardon, miss."

The old gentleman mumbled these curt phrases in a series of inarticulate
jerks, as if his vocal apparatus were wound up and worked with a crank,
but had grown so rusty that every now and then a wheel would catch on a
cog. He did not stand still for a moment, but kept continually stepping,
stepping, without advancing or retreating, striking his heavy cane on the
ground at each step, as if beating time to his jerky syllables. He had
twinkling blue eyes, which were half hid under heavy, projecting eyebrows,
and shut up tight whenever he laughed. His hair was long and thin, and
white as spun glass. Altogether, except that he spoke with an unmistakable
Yankee twang, and wore unmistakable Yankee clothes, you might have fancied