These fellows' coats fitted them as sleek as a cat's hide! Hiram knew that his garments wrinkled or bagged. After having his overcoat on so long and sitting in the carriage, his new dress suit needed pressing. The tailor's goose might have helped some at this juncture.
He saw more than one curious glance cast in his direction. But he was in for it, and Hiram Strong had suffered a searing of his pride before. He knew how to stand the gaff.
At the wide entrance to the drawing room Lettie was standing with her father to greet the guests. She carried an immense bouquet of hothouse flowers.
"Hiram! How glad I am to see you," she said, very kindly.
But at once the young farmer realized that she seemed looking over his shoulder as though in search of somebody else. Hiram stood aside, but there was nobody in the doorway. Lettie asked:
"Isn't he with you?"
"Who?" Hiram queried.
"Mr. Post—Orrin Post. Didn't he come?"
"Why Lettie! I didn't know he was invited. You didn't expect me to bring Orrin?"
"I thought he would come with you, Hiram. I invited him."