“Who?” she asked.
Hapgood whispered again.
Serena rose. “Yes, of course,” she said nervously. “Yes, certainly. I declare, I—”
“What's up?” asked her husband, his curiosity aroused. “Nothin' wrong, is there? What's that he's bringin' you on that thing?”
He referred to the cards and the tray. His wife, who had caught a glimpse of Mrs. Black's face, fought down her nervousness and announced with dignified composure.
“Some more callers, that's all, Daniel,” she said. “Oh, you mustn't go, Mrs. Black. You know them, I'm sure. I've heard you speak of 'em—of them often. It's”—referring to the cards—“the Honorable Oscar Fenholtz and Mrs. Fenholtz. Ask them right in, Hapgood. Daniel, get up!”
Daniel hurriedly obeyed orders. Mr. Black also rose.
“The Fenholtzes!” he observed in a tone of surprise. “Say, Dan, I didn't know you knew them. Annette didn't say anything about it.”
Annette hadn't known of it; her expression showed that. The Honorable and Mrs. Fenholtz were Scarford's wealthiest citizens. Mr. Fenholtz was proprietor of a large brewery and was an ex-mayor. His wife was prominent socially; as prominent as Mrs. Black hoped to be some day.
Hapgood reappeared, ushering in the new arrivals. The Honorable Oscar was plump and florid and good-natured. He wore a business suit and his shoes were not patent leathers. Mrs. Fenholtz was likewise plump. Her gown, in comparison with Annette's, or even Serena's, was extremely plain and old-fashioned.