Reluctantly Emmons allowed the other to pass, but as he did so, he hazarded one more question.
“Going far?” he said.
Vickers did not answer. He was some distance down the path, and possibly did not hear; but it is irritating to be left with an unanswered question on your lips, and Emmons came storming in to Nellie, who was standing in the hall.
“Where is he going, Nellie? I don’t think we are justified in letting him loose on the countryside—a man like that.”
Nellie was watching Vickers’s back as he swung out of sight, and she returned rather absently, “He is dining at the Overtons’.” She did not at first observe the expression of surprise and annoyance that appeared upon the face of her betrothed.
“The Overtons’!” he exclaimed.
Now we all know that strangely petty ambitions are laid away in the minds of even the greatest; and Emmons had always cherished a secret wish to be on terms of intimacy with Overton, whom he often described as the “ablest man in New England.” But, though the compliment must necessarily have been repeated, it had never won for its inventor the cordiality which it deserved.
“To the Overtons’,” he repeated. “Well, you will excuse my saying that seems to be about the most extraordinary thing I ever heard.”
“Does it?” returned Nellie. “It doesn’t to me. People like Bob are such a rarity in Hilltop.”
Emmons glanced at her to see what in the world she could mean, and not being very much the wiser for his glance, answered contemptuously: “A rarity! Fortunately.”