The other occupant of the wagon was a man between sixty-five and seventy , with iron-gray hair , a long , full , gray beard , a harsh-featured face , and deep-set hazel eyes under bushy , bristling brows . He was evidently tall , with a spare , ungainly figure , and stooping shoulders . His mouth was close-lipped and relentless , and did not look as if it had ever smiled . Indeed , the idea of smiling could not be connected with this man -- it was utterly incongruous . Yet there was nothing repellent about his face ; and there was something in it that compelled Eric 's attention . He rather prided himself on being a student of physiognomy , and he felt quite sure that this man was no ordinary Lindsay farmer of the genial , garrulous type with which he was familiar . Long after the old wagon , with its oddly assorted pair , had gone lumbering up the hill , Eric found himself thinking of the stern , heavy browed man and the black-eyed , red-lipped boy . CHAPTER IV . A TEA TABLE CONVERSATION The Williamson place , where Eric boarded , was on the crest of the succeeding hill . He liked it as well as Larry West had prophesied that he would . The Williamsons , as well as the rest of the Lindsay people , took it for granted that he was a poor college student working his way through as Larry West had been doing . Eric did not disturb this belief , although he said nothing to contribute to it . The Williamsons were at tea in the kitchen when Eric went in . Mrs. Williamson was the `` saint in spectacles and calico '' which Larry West had termed her . Eric liked her greatly . She was a slight , gray-haired woman , with a thin , sweet , high-bred face , deeply lined with the records of outlived pain . She talked little as a rule ; but , in the pungent country phrase she never spoke but she said something . The one thing that constantly puzzled Eric was how such a woman ever came to marry Robert Williamson . She smiled in a motherly fashion at Eric , as he hung his hat on the white-washed wall and took his place at the table . Outside of the window behind him was a birch grove which , in the westering sun , was a tremulous splendour , with a sea of undergrowth wavered into golden billows by every passing wind .
Old Robert XXXXX sat opposite him , on a bench .
Eric Lindsay West Williamson Williamsons figure nothing rest splendour wall