“What do you think of that, John?” he cried. “Zuby Jane makin' speeches! There's advancement for you, ain't it?”
John smiled, but rather faintly. He had scarcely taken his eyes from Cousin Percy's aristocratic presence. The latter gentleman turned to him.
“Well—er—Mr.—Mr. Doane,” he observed carelessly, “how do you like Scarford, as far as you've seen it?”
John replied that he had seen very little of it.
“You will find it a bit different from—er—what is it? Oh, yes, Trumet. You'll find it a bit different from Trumet, I imagine.”
“No doubt. I can see that already.”
“But John doesn't come from Trumet,” explained Serena; “that is, not now. He is in business in Boston.”
Cousin Percy seemed surprised. He favored the visitor with another look. “Indeed!” he drawled. He did not add “He doesn't look it,” in words, but his manner expressed just that.
Daniel caught his wife's eye. “Well, Serena,” he observed, with a meaning wink, “I guess likely you're tired, ain't you? Time to go aloft and turn in, I should say.”
Serena nodded. “Yes,” she answered. “Gertrude, you and John will excuse us, won't you? John, Captain Dott and I will see you in the morning. Good-night! Good-night, Cousin Percy.”