We don't seem to have no color in it. Why, don't you
remember 'Solomon in all his glory'? I guess 't wouldn't ha' been put
in jest that way if there wa'n't somethin' in it. I s'pose he had
crowns an' rings an' purple velvet coats an' brocade satin weskits, an'
all manner o' things. Sometimes seems as I could see him walkin'
straight in through that door there." She was running a knitting needle
back and forth through her ball of yarn as she spoke, without noticing
that some one had been stamping the snow from his feet on the doorstone
outside. The door, after making some bluster of refusal, was pushed
open, and on the heels of her speech a man walked in.
"My land!" cried Miss Susan, aghast. Then she and the schoolmaster, by
one accord, began to laugh.
But the man did not look at them until he had scrupulously wiped his
feet on the husk mat, and stamped them anew. Then he turned down the
legs of his trousers, and carefully examined the lank green carpet-bag
he had been carrying.
"I guess I trailed it through some o' the drifts," he remarked. "The
road's pretty narrer, this season o' the year."
"You give us a real start," said Susan. "We thought be sure 'twas
Solomon, an' mebbe the Queen o' Sheba follerin' arter.
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