“Worse than that!” wailed Lucia, shuddering, and covering her eyes with her pretty hands. Her father at once strode to the hall-way, looking like an avenging angel; but when he reached the door and took in at a glance the entire cause of his daughter’s annoyance he quickly put on a smile, and exclaimed,—
“Why, my dear fellow, how lucky that you happened in town on our reception evening! Come with me; Mrs. Tramlay will be delighted to see you again.”
Phil resisted the hand laid upon his arm, and replied,—
“I’ll call again,—some other time. I didn’t know you had company this evening.”
“All the better,” said the host, leading Phil along; “ ‘twill give you a chance to meet some of our friends. We’ve met many of yours, you know.”
Just then the couple stopped in front of a sofa on which Phil, whose eyes were still cast down, saw the skirts of two or three dresses. Then he heard his escort say,—
“My dear, you remember our old friend Phil Hayn, I’m sure?”
Phil looked up just in time to see Mrs. Tramlay’s feeble nervous face twitch into surprise and something like horror. Mr. Tramlay extended his hand, as a hint that his wife should arise,—a hint which could not be ignored after his hand had closed upon hers. Even when upon her feet, however, the lady of the house seemed unable to frame a greeting; had Phil been a city acquaintance, no matter how uninteresting, she would have smiled evasively and told him she was delighted that he had been able to come, but what could a lady, at her own reception, say to a young man in a sack-coat and a hard-rubber watch-guard?
Mrs. Tramlay looked at her husband in weak protest; her husband frowned a little and nodded his head impatiently; this pantomime finally stimulated Mrs. Tramlay to such a degree that she was able to ejaculate,—
“What a delightful surprise!”