And while they were shaking hands the boy turned quietly and re-seated
himself upon the top step. But Allison gave him more notice than had
his daughter Barbara. He stood with his pudgy hands in his pockets,
gazing at the averted face, unconcealed and growing amusement in the
scrutiny, until Caleb, not yet aware of the boy's woods-taught habit of
seeing while seeming not to see, was simultaneously annoyed at
Allison's fatuous grin, and glad of the fact that Steve apparently was
looking the other way. After a time Allison raised quizzical eyes to
Caleb's face.
"Wel-l-l?" he intoned, and with a little reluctance as reasonless as it
was unnoticed, Caleb answered the inferred question.
"This--this is a little friend of mine, Dexter," he said, "down from
the hills. He's in to have a look at the city which you have been so
instrumental in arousing to its present state of teeming activity.
This is Stephen O'Mara. Steve--this is Mr. Allison, Steve!"
Then the boy turned and again rose to his feet, and at that moment
Caleb could have hugged him for his deliberation. The boy inclined his
head; he bowed, without a word. And it was Dexter Allison who first
offered a hand.
"Glad to make your acquaintance, Stephen," the latter exclaimed with
quite violent good humor. "And how are you?"
Steve took the hand and closed his brown fingers hard upon the puffy
white ones.
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