Kilburn," said Mrs. Bolton.

"How do you do?" said Mr. Peck, taking the hand she gave him.

He was gaunt, without being tall, and his clothes hung loosely about him,
as if he had fallen away in them since they were made. His face was almost
the face of the caricature American: deep, slightly curved vertical lines
enclosed his mouth in their parenthesis; a thin, dust-coloured beard fell
from his cheeks and chin; his upper lip was shaven. But instead of the
slight frown of challenge and self-assertion which marks this face in the
type, his large blue eyes, set near together, gazed sadly from under a
smooth forehead, extending itself well up toward the crown, where his dry
hair dropped over it.

"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Peck," said Annie; "I've wanted to tell you
how pleased I am that you found shelter in my old home when you first came
to Hatboro'."

Mr. Peck's trousers were short and badly kneed, and his long coat hung
formlessly from his shoulders; she involuntarily took a patronising tone
toward him which was not habitual with her.

"Thank you," he said, with the dry, serious voice which seemed the fit
vocal expression of his presence; "I have been afraid that it seemed like
an intrusion to you."

"Oh, not the least," retorted Annie. "You were very welcome. I hope you're
comfortably placed where you are now?"

"Quite so," said the minister.