“Do you mean—he’s actually sore?”
“Well, he’s—he’s very impatient sometimes,” she explained. “You’d better hurry.”
“Poor dad, he’s aged terribly in the last few years, hasn’t he? I was quite shocked.”
The welcome he received from Serepta Grimes was all that could be desired. After she had hugged and kissed—and wept over him a little—she ordered him to take his bags up stairs to his old room and not to be all day about it, because dinner would soon be ready and they were having company in his honor.
“See here, Aunt Serepta,” he began gayly, “I’m getting too old to be ordered around—and, what’s more, what right have you to come into a house of gladness and cast a spell of gloom over it? You sha’n’t boss the heir-apparent around as if he were a—”
“You do as I tell you, or I’ll speak to Santa Claus about you,” she broke in, with mock severity. “Don’t forget Christmas is coming.”
When he came down stairs, after having unpacked his bags and scattered the contents all over the room, he found the “company” already assembled. As might have been expected, the guests included the Reverend Mr. Sage, Mr. Sikes, and Mr. Link, and one outsider: the Mayor of Rumley, Mr. Samuel Belding.
“What’s this I hear?” demanded the latter sternly, as he shook hands with the young man. “Your father’s just been telling us you won’t accept the distinguished honor the city of Rumley has conferred upon you through the unanimous vote of the Common Council. What’s the matter with it? Ain’t the pay big enough for you? It’s the chance of a life time, my boy. Rumley is going ahead like a house afire. We’re going to open up and pave two or three new streets, put in a new sewerage system and a crematory, build a bridge over the railroad tracks at Clay Street crossing, and—”
“I don’t believe a darned word of it,” broke in Mr. Sikes, almost plaintively.
“What’s that?” demanded the Mayor, going purple in the face. “You don’t believe what I’m—”