He had a black glaring collar like

They heard loud feet on the porch, and the doorbell rang. Upstairs they heard their mother cry “Oh, goodness!” They ran to the door. He blocked Catherine away from the knob and opened it. A man stood there, almost as tall as Daddy. He had a black glaring collar like Dr. Whittaker but wore a purple vest. He wore a long shallow hat and he had a long, sharp, bluish chin almost like a plow. He carried a small, shining black suitcase. He seemed to be as disconcerted and displeased as they were. He said, “Oh, good morning,” in a voice that had echoes in it and, frowning, glanced once again at the number along the side of the door. “Of course,” he said, with a smile they did not understand. “You’re Rufus and Catherine. May I come in?” And without waiting for their assent or withdrawal (for they were blocking the door) he strode forward, parting them with firm hands and saying “Isn’t Miss L ...” They heard Aunt Hannah’s voice behind them on the stairs, and turned. “Father?” she said, peering against the door’s light. “Come right in.” And she came up as he quickly removed his oddly shaped hat, and they shook hands. “This is Father Jackson, Rufus and Catherine,” she said. “He has come specially from Chattanooga. Father, this is Rufus, and this is Catherine.” “Yes, we’ve already introduced ourselves,” said Father Jackson, as if he thought it was funny. That’s a lie, Rufus reflected. Father Jackson left one hand at rest for a moment on Catherine, then removed it as if he had forgotten her. “And where is Mrs. Follet?” he asked, almost whispering “Mrs. Follet.” “If you’ll just wait a moment, Father, she isn’t quite ready.” “Of course.” He leaned towards Aunt Hannah and said, in a grinding, scarcely audible voice, “Is she—chuff-chuff-chuff?” “Oh yes,” Hannah replied. “But does she Whehf-wheff-whehf-whef-tized?” “I’m afraid not, Father,” said Hannah, gravely. “I wasn’t quite sure enough, myself, to tell her. I’m sorry to burden you with it but I felt I should leave that to you.”