Willoughby Pastures, he would have _found_ time to make money.
What did Mr. Sewell mean by speaking of that Nilsson lady by her
surname, without any Miss or Mrs.? Was that the way people talked in
Boston?

Mr. Sewell had talked to him as if he were a baby, and did not know
anything; and Barker was mad at himself for having stayed half a
minute after the minister had owned up that he had got the letter he
wrote him. He wished he had said, "Well, that's all I want of
_you_, sir," and walked right out; but he had not known how to
do it. Did they think it was very polite to go on talking with that
woman who laughed so much, and forget all about him? Pretty poor
sort of manners to eat with her bonnet on, and tell them she hated
their victuals.

Barker tried to rage against them in these thoughts, but at the
bottom of all was a simple grief that he should have lost the friend
whom he thought he had in the minister; the friend he had talked of
and dreamed of ever since he had seen and heard him speak those
cordial words; the friend he had trusted through all, and had come
down to Boston counting upon so much. The tears came into his eyes
as he stumbled and scuffled along the brick pavements with his
uncouth country walk.

He was walking up a straight, long street, with houses just alike on
both sides and bits of grass before them, that sometimes were gay
with late autumn flowers. A horse-car track ran up the middle, and
the cars seemed to be tinkling by all the time, and people getting
on and off. They were mostly ladies and children, and they were very
well dressed. Sometimes they stared at Barker, as they crossed his