"It quite upsets my plans," complained Eleanor. "Of course I was glad to come to town yesterday, dear, to meet you when you arrived from the steamer, but it's most annoying to be kept in London now. All the relatives are expecting you, Hiram."
"Are, eh? How many of 'em?"
"Only Cousin Harriet and Cousin Horatio and Cousin Lionel and the countess. The dear baroness left yesterday. I'm sorry she couldn't stay to see you."
"Yes, it's a pity the dear baroness couldn't stay to see me," said Hiram dryly.
"I'm glad we won't miss the bazaar to-morrow afternoon," Eleanor rattled on; "the Progressive Mothers' bazaar. You know Cousin Horatio delivers the address, and I want you particularly to be there, Hiram."
Baxter nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose so." Then his face gradually broke into a smile. "Progressive Mothers! Say, can ye beat that? I always thought old-fashioned mothers were about right, but the Bish says——"
"Hiram! Please do be more careful of your language!" Eleanor's voice was petulant.
"Oh, I see! It ain't the thing to call old Bunchester, Bish. All right, dearie. What I started to say was that his Lordship o' Bunchester tells me we ain't begun to hear the last word yet in the matter o' raisin' children. He got five hundred out o' me—I mean dollars."
By this time Mrs. Baxter had composed herself in a comfortable arm-chair, and, having nothing else to do, was studying her husband critically.
"You look tired, Hiram," she decided.