“Why—why, perhaps, Primmie. I mean—that is to say—”
He stopped. Miss Phipps was standing in the doorway.
“Why, Mr. Bangs!” she exclaimed. “Are you here so soon? I didn't expect you till to-night. What are you standin' out there in the cold for? Come in, come in!”
And then Primmie, to make use of the expressive idiom of her friend, the driver of the grocery cart, Primmie “spilled the beans.” She turned, saw her mistress, and ran toward her, waving both hands.
“Oh, Miss Martha!” she cried, “he—he's done it. He says it's all right. He does! he does!”
“Primmie!”
“He says he's been to them—them Bancroft what's-his-name folks and he's got the good news for you. Oh, ain't it elegant! Ain't it!”
This wild perversion of his guarded statement took Galusha completely by surprise. He started forward aghast. And then he saw Martha Phipps' face. Upon it were written such hope and relief and joy that the words of expostulation and protest remained unspoken. And it was Martha who spoke first.
“Oh, Mr. Bangs!” she gasped. “Oh, Mr. Bangs!”
Galusha's chin quivered. His face became very red.