This was Mr.Peter Johnson.
Mr.Johnson took breakfast at the Abingdon Arms.

He expressed to the landlord of that hostelry a civil surprise and gratification at the volume of Abingdon's business, evinced by a steadily swelling current of early morning wagons, laden with produce, on their way to the station, or, by the river road, to the factory towns near by; was assured that he should come in the potato-hauling season if he thought that was busy; parried a few polite questions; and asked the way to the Selden Farm.
He stayed at the Selden Farm that day and that night.

Afternoon of the next day found him in Lawyer Mitchell's waiting-room, at Vesper, immediate successor of Mr.Chauncey Bowen, then engaged in Lawyer Mitchell's office on the purchase of the Watkins Farm; and he was presently ushered into the presence of Mr.Mitchell by the demon clerk.
Mr.Mitchell greeted him affably.
"Good-day, sir.

What can I do for you to-day ?" "Mr.Oscar Mitchell, is it ?" "The same, and happy to serve you." "Got a letter for you from your cousin, Stan.

My name's Johnson." Mitchell extended his hand, gave Pete a grip of warm welcome.
"I am delighted to see you, Mr.Johnson.Take a chair--this big one is the most comfortable.