“Name's Bangs.”
“What is he?”
“A nut,” was the reply, given with the assurance of absolute conviction.
The “nut” traveled back to East Wellmouth upon the afternoon train and, back once more in the Phipps' sitting room, “shelled out” upon the center table. Martha stared at the heap of bills and caught her breath with a gasp.
Galusha deposited the last bank note upon the table. “There!” he exclaimed, with satisfaction; “that is all, I believe. And I have actually gotten it here—all of it. I am quite sure I haven't lost a—a penny. Dear me, that is a very remarkable thing to do—for me to do, I mean.”
Miss Phipps did not answer and, turning, he saw that she was sitting in the rocking-chair, her hand to her forehead. Her face was white.
“Dear me!” he exclaimed, in alarm. “Miss Martha, are you ill?”
Still she did not answer and, very much frightened, he hastened to the door, opened it, and shouted for Primmie. The summons for her handmaiden acted as a complete restorative. Martha came to life at once.
“WHAT in the world are you callin' Primmie for?” she demanded. “I don't want her. I wouldn't have her see all that.... Oh, good heavens and earth!”
Primmie was already in the room. She, as Mr. Bangs would have described it, bounced in.