“My—soul!” he exclaimed presently. “Look, Serena.”
Serena looked, and her look was a long one. Then, her face flushed and her eyes shining, she turned to her husband.
“Oh! Oh, Daniel!” she gasped. “It's as good as the Blacks', isn't it? I—I do believe it's better! Get out, quick!”
The caretaker, a middle-aged man with dark hair and mutton-chop whiskers, met them at the top of the stone steps leading to the front door. He bowed low.
“Good afternoon, ma'am,” he said. “Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Dott, ain't it, sir? And Mrs. Dott, ma'am. My name is 'Apgood, sir. I was expecting you. Will you be so good as to walk in?”
He threw open the door and, bowing once more, ushered them into the hall, a large, old-fashioned hall with lofty ceiling and a mahogany railed staircase.
“I presume, sir,” he said, addressing the captain, “that you and the madam would wish to 'ave me show you about a bit. I was Mrs. Dott's—the late Mrs. Dott's—butler when she resided 'ere, sir, and she was good enough to make me 'er caretaker when she went away, sir.”
Captain Dan, rather overawed by Mr. Hapgood's magnificent manner, observed that he wanted to know, adding that he had heard about the caretaking from the lawyers “up to Boston.” After an appraising glance at the speaker, Mr. Hapgood addressed his next remark to Serena.
“Shall I show you about the establishment, madam?” he asked.
Serena's composure was a triumph. An inexperienced observer might have supposed she had been accustomed to butlers and establishments all her life.