Before heralding his arrival by any remark, Mr. Munt gazed with an air of genuine satisfaction round the large cool room smelling of paint and general newness, and then he said in a tone of rather grim heartiness to the more sprightly of the two ladies, “Well, Gert, what do you think on us?”
There was a careful marshaling of manner on the part of the lady addressed as Gert. “Almost too grand, Josiah—since you ask my opinion. Still I’ve been telling Maria that she must show Spirit.”
The nod of Josiah might be said to express approval. Miss Gertrude Preston was a half-sister of his wife, and she was perhaps the only woman among his strictly limited acquaintance who was able to sustain a claim to his respect. She had character and great common sense and having acted for many years as resident companion to no less a person than Lawyer Mossop’s aunt, the late Miss Selina Gregg, she had seen something of the world. Upon all subjects her views were well considered and uncommonly shrewd; therefore they were not to be passed over lightly. Aunt Gerty was a favorite of Josiah, not merely for the reason that “she knew a bit more than most,” but also because she was clever enough to play up to his rising fortunes and growing renown.
“Maria shown you round?” said Josiah, accepting a cup of tea from the graceful hands of his sister-in-law.
The depressed lady in puce silk sighed a limp yes.
“Eggshell china tea service,” Gerty fixed a purposeful eye upon Josiah’s cup.
“Out of old Nickerson’s sale,” Josiah performed an audible act of deglutition. “Four pun ten the set. Slop basin’s cracked though.”
“I see it is, but you have a bargain, Josiah. You always seem to have a bargain, no matter what you buy.”
Josiah purred under the subtle flattery.