As Marta talked, Mr. Batholommey divested himself of his long black rainproof coat, and Colonel Lawton (who had not felt it necessary to reply to Marta's civil greeting) hastily took off his rubber poncho, giving it a vigorous shake that sent the raindrops flying. He was a tall, middle-aged man, loosely put together, who wore his clothes very badly. One somehow got the idea that they were never pressed.
"Brr!" he cried, taking off his overshoes. "What a storm for June! It's more like fall! Look at my rubbers—and yours are just as bad—mud-soaked! Get 'em off, quick. They're enough to give any one a chill!"
Marta had slipped out unnoticed, and now Frederik came in just in time to see the dripping coats hung up on the hat rack.
"Good-evening," he said in what he intended for a cordial tone.
"Ah, just in time," answered Colonel Lawton. "Gee Whillikins! What a day!"
Then turning again to Mr. Batholommey he went on jocularly:
"Great weather for baptisms—Parson."
Having successfully disentangled himself at last from all his water-soaked outer coverings, Mr. Batholommey turned and offered a damp and rainy hand to Frederik.
"Good-evening, good-evening, Frederik," he said impressively. "I'm glad to see you. We are pleased to be here, in spite of the weather."
"Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy,——" put in Colonel Lawton. "At the time you set."