She was a frail-looking old woman,
with a knitted shawl pinned tightly across her chest,
and her bonnet, in the course of commercial activity,
pushed so far back as to be almost falling off.
"You might smarten yourself with that change, Elmore,"
she addressed him, ignoring his companion. "There's folks
coming back for it. Two-dollar bill, wa'n't it? Fifty
cents--seventy-five--dollar'n a half. That's a Yankee
dime, an' you kin march straight back with it. They don't
pass but for nine cents, as you're old enough to know.
Keep twenty-five cents for your dinner--you'll get most
for the money at the Barker House--an' bring me back
another quarter. Better go an' get your victuals now--it's
gone twelve--while they're hot."
Elmore took his instructions without visible demur; and
then, as Lorne had not seen fit to detach himself,
performed the ceremony of introduction. As he performed
it he drew one foot back and bowed himself, which seemed
obscurely to facilitate it. The suspicion faded out of
Mrs Crow's tired old sharp eyes under the formula, and
she said she was pleased to make our friend's acquaintance.
"Mr Murchison's changed some since the old days at the
Collegiate," Elmore explained, "but he ain't any different
under his coat. He's practisin' the law."
"Lawyers," Mrs Crow observed, "are folks I like to keep
away from.
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