“Miss Perry,” said she, with a drawl that was almost ludicrous.
In extenuation of the conduct of Mr. Marchbanks it must be said that neither his sense of sight nor of hearing were quite so good as they had been. Otherwise that ludicrous drawl must have caused him considerable uneasiness.
Miss Perry tucked the wicker basket under her arm, and followed Mr. Marchbanks with perfect friendliness and simplicity. Mr. Marchbanks opened the door of the housekeeper’s room, and in his own inimitable manner, announced—
“Miss Perry.”
A decidedly stern, angular-looking lady disengaged her chin from a teacup.
“The housekeeper, Mrs. Plunket,” Mr. Marchbanks deigned to explain to the owner of the straw hat.
Mr. Marchbanks mentioned the name of Mrs. Plunket, the housekeeper, in a manner to suggest that it expected reverence from Miss Perry. Again, however, he was doomed to disappointment. The stately and distant inclination of Mrs. Plunket’s head merely provoked a frank and friendly impulse in Miss Perry.
“Oh, how do you do?” said she. “I hope you are quite well.”
To the dismay of Mr. Marchbanks and to the dignified stupefaction of Mrs. Plunket, the owner of the straw hat made a most determined effort to shake hands with that lady.
Mrs. Plunket gave her a finger. Being as short-sighted as Mr. Marchbanks himself, she hastily adjusted her spectacles to take a more adequate survey of this extremely temerarious person.