Sam's acquaintance with Mrs. Richie had begun when she was getting
settled in her new house. Sam senior, having no desire to climb the
hill road, sent his various communications to his tenant by his son,
and afterwards Sam junior had communications of his own to make. He
fell into the habit of stopping there on Sunday afternoons, quite
oblivious of the fact that Mrs. Richie did not display any pleasure at
seeing him. After one of these calls he was apt to be late in reaching
"The Top," as his grandfather's place was called, and old Benjamin
Wright, in his brown wig and moth-eaten beaver hat, would glare at him
with melancholy dark eyes.

"Gad-a-mercy, what do you mean,--getting here at six-five! I have my
tea at six, sir; at six sharp. Either get here on time or stay away. I
don't care which. Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir," young Sam would murmur.

"Where have you been? Mooning after that female at the Stuffed Animal
House?"

"I had to leave a message, sir, about the lease."

"How long does it take to leave a message about a lease?"

"She was not down-stairs and I had to wait--"

"_I_ had to wait! That's more to the point. There, don't talk about
it. You drive me crazy with your chatter."