“Mr. Marge!” exclaimed the three ladies in chorus, as they hastily arose.
“What! only just come in?” asked Tramlay. “And of course there was such a clatter here, there being three women together, that nobody could hear a word.”
Apparently the ladies did not agree with the head of the family, for Mrs. Tramlay looked at the visitor pityingly and Lucia dropped her eyes and blushed. But Margie was equal to the situation: her eyes danced as she exclaimed,—
“Just in time to see the plans of the villa we’re to have at Haynton Bay. See? This is the principal chamber floor; it fronts that way, toward the water, and I’ve just been cheated out of the darlingest room of all: it’s been set apart as sacred to the bride and groom. As if the silly things would care to look at water or anything else but each other!”
“It will be as handsome a house as there is on the coast,” said Tramlay, “though your humble servant will be its owner. Say, old fellow, you need New York air: you don’t look as well as usual.”
“A long day of travel,—that is all,” said Marge, with a feeble smile that seemed reluctant to respond to the demand imposed upon it.
Mrs. Tramlay rang for a servant, and whispered,—
“A glass of wine for Mr. Marge.”
“Haynton Bay is booming,” remarked Tramlay. “Have you heard any particulars recently?”
“None at all,” drawled Marge: “I have been so busy that—— Thank you, Mrs. Tramlay,” he said, with a nod and a glance, as the wine appeared.