“Oh, yes, ma’am. I’m sure. When Mr. Graves came down to see me, last week ’twas, I told him to say I’d be up pretty soon to look the ground over. This is a pretty fine place the young folks have got here,” he added, gazing admiringly at the paintings and bookcases.
“Yes,” assented the lady, condescendingly. “For an apartment it is really quite livable.”
“Livable!” Captain Elisha’s astonishment got the better of his politeness for the moment. “Um! Yes, I should say a body might manage to worry along in it. Was the place where they used to live any finer than this?”
“Certainly!”
“You don’t tell me! No wonder they talked about economi—Humph!”
“What were you about to say, Mr. Warren?”
“Oh, nothin’, nothin’! Talkin’ to myself is a habit I’ve got. Abbie—my second cousin; I guess I told you about her—says it’s a sure sign that a person’s rich or out of his head, one or t’other. I ain’t rich, so—” He chuckled once more.
“Mr. Graves came to see you at your home, did he?”
“Yes, ma’am. At South Denboro. And he certainly did have a rough passage. Ho! ho! Probably you heard about it, bein’ so friendly with the family.”
“Ahem! Doubtless he would have mentioned it, but he has been ill.”