“See 'em!” she repeated. “Of course we'll see them. I declare! I think it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. It's way round under your ear.”
They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and her husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie.
Mrs. and Mr. Black—scanning them in the order of their importance—rose as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and gorgeous to view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not as tall as his wife, and did not look his height. Annette swept forward.
“Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her own gloved one. “We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we couldn't resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it wonderful!”
Serena admitted that it was wonderful. “We can hardly believe it yet, ourselves,” she said. “But it was real nice of you to come. Do sit down again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair.”
Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. “Sit down anywhere, Barney,” said the former. “Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; that's got a squeak in the leg.”
Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and sank into an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the word “Barney,” and the glare with which Serena favored her husband, were entirely lost upon the latter.
“We had that rocker up in the attic till last month,” he observed; “but Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be all the go now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. I suppose it's all right. We'll be antiques ourselves before many years, and we'll want folks to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! ha! ... Why, what's the matter, Serena?”
Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that “nothing was the matter.”
“The rocker isn't very strong,” she explained, addressing Mrs. Black. “But it belonged to my great—that is, it has been in our family for a good many years and we think a great deal of it.”