He was a near-sighted, elderly man, and wore spectacles.

Just now his hands, arms, and apron were covered with grease and oil, and, as he wiped his forehead with the hand not holding the wrench, he left a wide mourning band across it.
"Well ?" he panted.

"Who is it?
Who wants me ?" One of the loafers, who had been assisting the blacksmith by holding his pipe while he dove into the machinery, languidly motioned toward the new arrival.

Benijah adjusted his spectacles and walked over to the wagon.
"Who is it ?" he asked crossly.

Then, as he recognized his visitor, he grunted: "Ugh! it's you, hey.