Five other pipes of quaint design hung near it.
Marcus protested against smoking in an invalid's presence; but the old
gentleman insisted upon it, and playfully but firmly threatened to smoke
the pipe himself if his guest did not. So Marcus filled the large bowl
from a paper of old, mild tobacco, which hung in a pouch near it, and
drew a few gentle whiffs, intending to let the pipe go out. But the old
gentleman watched him.
"'Twon't do," said he. "That old pipe of mine is not used to neglect. As
a particular favor, now, I beg that you'll smoke, and puff out clouds,
as I have often seen you do across the way."
Marcus protested again, but the old gentleman stubbornly maintained his
point; and it was not till the pungent smoke began to curl upward, that
he proceeded with his personal disclosure.
"Have you ever heard my name before, Mr. Wilkeson?" said he.
Marcus bowed, and said that he had not had that pleasure.
"Of course not," returned the old gentleman, not displeased with the
answer. "I have taken infinite pains to keep out of public life since I
retired from business, twenty-five years ago.
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