Here Mrs. Petter, who sat near her husband, pressed violently upon his foot; but she was too late, the words had been said. Mrs. Petter prepared herself for a blaze, but none came. There was a momentary flash in the Calthean eyes, and then the lids came down and shut out everything but a line of steely light. Then she gazed out over the landscape, and presently again turned her face towards her companions, with nothing more upon it than her usual expression when in a bad humor.
"Do you know," she said abruptly, "that Lanigan Beam is coming back?"
"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Petter, "I thought he was settled in Patagonia."
"It was not Patagonia," said Mr. Petter; "it was Nicaragua."
"Well, I knew it was the little end of some place," said she; "and now he's coming back. Well, that is unfortunate."
"Unfortunate!" said Miss Calthea; "it's criminal. There ought to be a law against such things."
Again the host of the Squirrel Inn moved uneasily on his chair and crossed and recrossed his legs. He liked Lanigan Beam.
"I cannot see," he said, "why it is wrong for a man to return to the place where he was born."
"Born!" scornfully exclaimed Miss Calthea; "it's the greatest pity that there is any place where he was born; but there's no use talking about him. He has written to them at the hotel at Lethbury that he will be there the day after to-morrow, and he wants them to have a room ready for him. If he'd asked them to have a grave ready for him it would have been much more considerate."
Mr. Petter now rose to his feet; his manner was very dignified.