But the laugh of hearty good fellowship which followed his
next remark was a trifle overdone "Ain't afraid of bombs, are you?
Don't you know that the war is over yet?"
The Interpreter obligingly laughed at the merry witticism, as he
answered, "There is light enough out here under the stars to think by.
How are you, Adam Ward?"
From where he stood in the doorway, Adam could see the dim figure of
the Interpreter's companion at the farther end of the porch. "Who is
that with you?" demanded the Mill owner suspiciously.
"Only Billy Rand," replied the man in the wheel chair reassuringly.
"Won't you sit down?"
Before accepting the invitation to be seated, Adam advanced upon the
man in the wheel chair with outstretched hands, as if eagerly meeting a
most intimate friend whose regard he prized above all other
relationships of life. Seizing the Interpreter's hand, he clung to it
in an excess of cordiality, all the while pouring out between short
laughs of pretended gladness, a hurried volume of excuses for having so
long delayed calling upon his dear old friend. To any one at all
acquainted with the man, it would have been very clear that he wanted
something.
"It seems ages since I saw you," he declared, as he seated himself at
last.
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