Only when he was left to himself did it occur to Eves that something should be hung in front of the fireplace to prevent the soot from flying into the room, as he had seen done by professional sweeps, and he ran to the potato shed to find an old sack or two that would answer the purpose.  While he was still in the shed, a man entered the yard and looked cautiously around.  He was a strange figure.  A straw slouch hat, yellow with age, covered long, greasy black hair.  His long, straight upper lip was clean shaven, but his cheeks and chin were clothed with thick, wiry whiskers and beard.  He wore a rusty-black frock-coat, grey trousers very baggy at the knees, and white rubber-soled shoes.  It was none other than Philemon Noakes, the owner of the village store, grocer, oilman, draper, seedsman—a rustic William Whiteley.