It could not be--not in those faded overalls, too long in the legs and frayed at the bottoms.
I paused, laughed at myself, and almost abandoned the chase.

But the haunting familiarity of those shoulders and that silver hair! Again I hurried on.

As I passed him, I shot a keen look at his face; then I whirled around abruptly and confronted--the Bishop.
He halted with equal abruptness, and gasped.

A large paper bag in his right hand fell to the sidewalk.

It burst, and about his feet and mine bounced and rolled a flood of potatoes.