You got to consider that." He looked into the street below and saw General Hendricks come shuddering into the cold wind.

"How's he getting on ?" asked Culpepper, nodding towards Hendricks, who seemed unequal to the gale.
"Oh, I don't know, Colonel,--times are hard." "My, how he's aging!" said the colonel, softly.
After a silence Barclay said: "There's one thing sure--I've got it into his hard old head that Bob is doing something back there, and he couldn't earn his salt here.

Besides," added Barclay, as if to justify himself against an accusing conscience, "the old man does all the work in the bank now, with time to spare." It was the day of army overcoats, and the hard times had brought hundreds of them from closets and trunks.

General Hendricks, fluttering down the street in his faded blue, made a rather pathetic figure.

The winter had whitened his hair and withered his ruddy face.
His unequal struggle with the wind seemed some way symbolical of his life, and the two men watched him out of sight without a word.