There was nothing in his voice to encourage Dick to talk about Lois Howe,
so he wisely turned the conversation, but wished he had a more congenial
companion. Mr. Dale walked with hands behind him and shoulders bent
forward; his wide-brimmed felt hat was pulled down over his long soft
locks of white hair, and hid the expression of his face.

So Dick rattled on in his light, happy voice, talking of everything or
nothing, as his hearer might happen to consider it, until suddenly Mr.
Dale's attention was caught: Dick began to speak of John Ward. "I thought
I'd seen him," he was saying. "The name was familiar, and then when Miss
Lois described his looks, and told me where he studied for the ministry,
I felt sure of it. If it is the same man, he must be a queer fellow."

"Why?" asked Mr. Dale. He did not know John Ward very well, and had no
particular feeling about him one way or the other; but people interested
Mr. Dale, and he had meant some time to study this man with the same
impersonal and kindly curiosity with which he would have examined a new
bug in his collection.

"Because, if he's the man I think he is,--and I guess there is no doubt
about it--thin, dark, and abstracted-looking, named Ward, and studying at
the Western Theological Seminary that year,--I saw him do a thing--well,
I never knew any other man who would have done it!"

"What was it, sir?" said Mr. Dale, turning his mild blue eyes upon the
young man, and regarding him with an unusual amount of interest.

Dick laughed. "Why," he answered, "I saw that man,--there were a lot of
us fellows standing on the steps of one of the hotels; it was the busiest
street and the busiest time of the day, and there was a woman coming