”He is probably there now, but he will drive out to the Park at four.”
I was about to leave, when a tall, elderly man approached Mr. Bantam, and said, deferentially,
”Dinkle, of your State, wants Domestics on sixty days. Shall I sell him?”
”I’ll go see him,” said Bantam, turning off; ”Good bye, Mr. Smith. Call in again if you have leisure.”
The tall, elderly man was about to follow him, when a sudden recollection of his face flashed upon me, and I caught his arm.
”Excuse me, but isn’t this Mr. Marshman?”
”It is, sir,” he replied, turning around to me again.
”My name is Smith, sir,” I said, offering him my hand; ”we met at Saratoga.”
”I remember. How have you been?” he answered coldly, taking my hand without cordiality, while a flush I could not understand came over his face.
”You are connected with this house?” I asked; thinking, of course, that he was a partner.