"Nop," said the trailer.
"Well, I'm not looking for him," explained the stranger, slowly, "as
much as I'm looking for a young man that I kind of suspect is been to
see him to-day: a young man that looks like me, only younger. Has
lightish hair and pretty tall and lanky, and carrying a shiny black
bag with him. Did you happen to hev noticed him going into that place
across the way?"
"Nop," said Snipes.
The old man sighed and nodded his head thoughtfully at Snipes, and
puckered up the corners of his mouth, as though he were thinking
deeply. He had wonderfully honest blue eyes, and with the white hair
hanging around his sun-burned face, he looked like an old saint. But
the trailer didn't know that: he did know, though, that this man was a
different sort from the rest. Still, that was none of his business.
"What is't you want to see him about?" he asked sullenly, while he
looked up and down the street and everywhere but at the old man, and
rubbed one bare foot slowly over the other.
The old man looked pained, and much to Snipe's surprise, the question
brought the tears to his eyes, and his lips trembled. Then he swerved
slightly, so that he might have fallen if Snipes had not caught him
and helped him across the pavement to a seat on a stoop.
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