The house was large, and, on a dark day, gloomy.

His humor was not sweetened by noticing evidences of tears on Mrs.Belcher's face.

The breakfast was badly cooked, and he rose from it exasperated.

There was no remedy but to go out and call upon Mrs.Dillingham.He took an umbrella, and, telling his wife that he was going out on business, he slammed the door behind him and went down the steps.
As he reached the street, he saw a boy scudding along under an umbrella, with a package under his arm.

Taking him for a newsboy, he called; "Here, boy! Give me some papers." The lad had so shielded his face from the rain and the house that he had not seen Mr.Belcher; and when he looked up he turned pale, and simply said: "I'm not a newsboy;" and then he ran away as if he were frightened.
There was something in the look that arrested Mr.Belcher's attention.
He was sure he had seen the lad before, but where, he could not remember.