“My heavens and earth!” she exclaimed. Then, peering forward, she stared at the dripping apparition which had appeared to her from the fog and rain.
“Here I am, madam,” repeated Mr. Bangs.
The woman nodded. She was middle-aged, with a pleasant face and a figure of the sort which used to be called “comfortable.” Her manner of looking and speaking were quick and businesslike.
“Yes,” she said, promptly, “I can see you are there, so you needn't tell me again. WHY are you there and who are you?”
Galusha's head was spinning dizzily, but he tried to make matters clear.
“My name is—is—Dear me, how extraordinary! I seem to have forgotten it. Oh, yes, it is Bangs—that is it, Bangs. I heard you calling me, so—”
“Heard ME calling YOU?”
“Yes. I—I came down to the hotel—the rest—Rest—that hotel over there. It was closed. I sat down upon the porch, for I have been ill recently and I—ah—tire easily. So, as I say—”
The woman interrupted him. She had been looking keenly at his face as he spoke.
“Come in. Come into the house,” she commanded, briskly.