Mrs. Burrell assumed an expression of severity.
“No, we won’t. You’ve got enough on your hands, with all these political people pilin’ in on you. I guess I know what it is. We’ll come to say good-bye, if we can, to-morrow some time. Father says he’s got to get back Thursday.”
“But we’d like to have you, really,” said Helen, smiling.
Mrs. Burrell remained firm. “No. You’re too good. That’s the only trouble with you. Well, good-bye.”
“You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you, Mr. Briggs?” said Carrie Cora.
Briggs waved his hand toward Helen. “Ask the lady,” he said.
“She said she’d come if she could,” Carrie Cora declared.
“Well, I’ll come if I can. Good-bye.”
He followed them to the door, and he had the air of dismissing them with an almost benign courtesy. When they had disappeared with Helen his face took on an expression of utter weariness. “What a nuisance!” he said to himself. “I sha’n’t get a stroke of work done to-day.” He sat at his desk and pressed his fingers over his eyes. His little exhibitions of hypocrisy made him very uncomfortable now, chiefly because he knew that his wife took note of them. After a moment he sat upright and nerved himself to go on with his work. But he had not been alone for five minutes when Michael interrupted again.
“The gentlemen that left a few minutes ago have come back, sir.”