Smith took courage from this encomium, and entered the next room fresh as cold water could make him, and shedding around a wholesome flavor of yellow soap.
Mrs. Carter sprang to her feet, and met her old neighbor half way. “Why, Smith, is this you? Didn’t expect to see me?”
“Well, whether or know, I’m glad to see you. How’s Carter?”
Mrs. Carter winced a little when her husband’s name was thus mentioned shorn of its appendages; but she answered cheerfully, and, seating herself at the table with a flutter of lace and rustle of silks, commenced on her fresh relay of ham with renewed appetite.
“Now, Smith, this is what I call sociable,” she said, looking around for a napkin; but not finding one, she used her lace handkerchief instead. “Your wife and I have been a-talking over old times; now its your turn.”
Smith looked at the glittering silk of her dress, and heard the tinkle of her gold chains and bracelets with something like dismay. He was beginning to think the clean cuffs and collar insufficient, and wished from the depths of his heart that he had put on his best coat.
“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Carter, feeling a little innocent triumph in her old friend’s confusion, but compassionating it all the time.
“I—I don’t know—that is, it seemed to me this morning that there was a slight indication of a storm,” answered Smith, bringing out his very best language, in lieu of the coat.
Mrs. Carter accepted the long word as a compliment to her improved condition, and gently plumed herself upon it. She would gladly have matched his elegance with corresponding erudition, but failed to catch the inspiration, and only said,
“Indeed! well, I rather thought so myself.”