"Mrs. Ralston and Miss Drew."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Ralston and Miss Drew."
"Who? I don't hear you."
"Miss Drew."
"The Crews?—There ain't no such people in town."
"Miss Drew!" Jane became slightly crimson.
"I'll tell you," said Mr. Cattermole, "we'll wait. I can't hear. Really I can't."
The next minute they arrived at Mrs. Cowmull's, since she lived in the first house on the street. Lorenzo Rath, the artist, who had been sitting on the middle seat with Madeleine, now pressed her hand, twisted about and shook Jane's, nodded to old Mr. Cattermole, leaned forward and dragged his suit-case from under the seat, and then wriggled out, over two boxes and under a flapping curtain, and down on to the sidewalk. Mrs. Cowmull was standing on the porch, trying to look hospitable and unconscious at the same time. "Here," said the stage driver, suddenly delivering Lorenzo's trunk on to the top of his head,—"and here's the lampshade and the codfish,—they get down here, too."
Lorenzo couldn't help laughing. "Au revoir," he cried, waving the lampshade as the steps began to move.