The little man looked up at him sharply, like a bird disturbed in a
meal, and then down again upon the paper. Laurie noticed that his hat
and stick were laid upon the adjoining chair as if to retain it. He
hesitated an instant; then he slid in on the other side, opposite the
stranger, tapped his glass with his knife, and sat down.
When the waiter came, a familiarly deferential man with whiskers,
Laurie, with a slight look of peevishness, gave his order, and glanced
reproachfully at the occupied seat. The waiter gave the ghost of a
shrug with his shoulders, significant of apologetic helplessness, and
went away.
A minute later Mr. Morton entered, glanced this way and that, nodding
imperceptibly to Laurie, and was just moving off to a less occupied
table when the stranger looked up.
"Mr. Morton," he cried, "Mr. Morton!" in an odd voice that seemed on
the point of cracking into falsetto. Certainly he was very like a
portly bird, thought Laurie.
The other turned round, nodded with short geniality, and slid into the
chair from which the old man moved his hat and stick with zealous
haste.
"And what are you doing here?" said Mr. Morton.
"Just taking a bite like yourself," said the other.
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