The newcomer had the sun behind him; Tom had it on his face. His features were, therefore, the first to become visible. A strong voice called out, in a tone of astonishment:
"Why, Tad! What are _you_ doing up here in New Hampshire?"
The other came nearer. "Tom, are you? Excuse me! Took you for my son."
"Sorry I'm not," Tom laughed again. "Somebody else's."
Coming abreast, they headed toward shore. Each face was turned toward the other. Adopting his companion's stroke, Tom adjusted himself to his pace. Though conversation was not easy, the one found it possible to ask questions, the other to answer them.
A light came into the eyes, and went out again. "Where do you live?"
There was again that spark in the eyes, flashing and then dying out. "How did he get that name?"
"Don't know. Just a name. Suppose his mother gave it to him."
"Lots of Theodore Whitelaws. Have come across two or three. Like the Colin Campbells and Howard Smiths you run into everywhere. What did your father do?"
"Never heard. Died when I was a kid." Tom felt entitled to ask a question on his own side. "What do you want to know for?"
The other seemed on his guard. "Oh, nothing! Was just--was just struck by the resemblance to--to my boy."
The swerve which took them away from each other was as slight as that which a ship gets from her rudder. Tom continued to play round in the water till he saw the older man reach the bathing cabins, dress, and go away.
That afternoon he was told to drive back to Keene both Mr. Ansley and the guest whom he, Tom, had brought over on the previous evening. As the latter came out to enter the car it was easy to recognize the swimmer of the morning.
Tom held the door open, his hand to his cap. The gentleman gave him a swift, keen look.
"Yes, sir; this is what I do. Mr. Ansley got me the job."
"Young fellow whom Guy has befriended," Mr. Ansley explained, as he took his place beside his friend.
But in the Pullman, when Tom had carried in the gentleman's valise, there was another minute in which they were alone. The car was nearly empty; there were still some five minutes before the departure of the train. While the colored porter took the suitcase the traveler turned to Tom. He was a tall man, straight and flexible like Tom himself, but a little heavier.