Many things, however, had to happen in the parish before Mr. Perry-Hennington could dine at Longwood on Wednesday. And the first of them in the order of their occurrence was an inquiry of Edith’s at the Sunday luncheon in regard to their new neighbor.
“A most curious man has just waylaid me,” the vicar said. “An American, who says he has taken Longwood.”
“Oh, yes,” said Edith, in her precise voice. “The odd-looking man in church this morning, I suppose?”
“He gave me his card.” The vicar produced the card, and requested Prince, the parlor maid, to hand it to Miss Edith. “He insists on our dining at Longwood on Wednesday. It seems only neighborly to do so.”
“Immensely rich, I believe,” said Edith, scanning the card at her leisure, with the aid of a pair of tortoise shell spectacles, which she wore with considerable effect.
“Who is he? What is he?” There might, or there might not have been a slight accession of interest to the vicar’s tone.
“Lady Tyrwhitt was talking about him the other day. He is a great American inventor, the discoverer of Murdwell’s Law.”
“Ah-h,” said the vicar, intelligently. But Murdwell’s Law was a sealed book to him.
“Immensely important scientific fact, I believe,” Edith explained. “Lady Tyrwhitt seems to know all about it. I couldn’t grasp it myself. I only know that Lady Tyrwhitt says it is going to revolutionize everything.”
“Ah-h!” said the vicar.