midday
The weather-stained gable of Nancy McVeigh 's tavern , like some old familiar face , came into view by the way , and Sophia asked to be set down at the door . Nancy , tall , angular and sympathetic , walked into her parlor to meet her guest . The minister did not stay , but left them together , the younger woman sobbing on the breast of the older , who bent over and stroked the troubled head softly . `` If the world had no mean people , there 'd be little use fer kindness , '' remarked Nancy McVeigh to Moore , the operator at the railway junction , who always enjoyed a smoke and a half-hour chat with his hostess after his midday meal . They were discussing the escapades of young John Keene in the little parlor upstairs , whither Mistress McVeigh had gone to complete a batch of home-knit socks for her son , Cornelius , who lived in Chicago . `` I ca n't understand such a difference in the natures of father and son , '' Moore continued , after Nancy 's interruption . `` The father starts life penniless , without education , friends or business training .