Galusha sighed. “In about two weeks, I—ah—suppose,” he said.
“Oh!”
“Ah—yes.”
There was another silent interval. Then Martha turned her head to listen.
“Wasn't that an automobile I heard then?” she asked. “Yes, it is. It can't be the Spiritualist crowd comin' so soon. No, it is stoppin' here, at our gate. Is it Doctor Powers, I wonder?”
She went to the window, pulled aside the shade and looked out.
“It is a big car,” she said. “It isn't the doctor, that's sure. There's a man gettin' out, a big man in a fur coat. Who on earth—?”
Steps sounded without upon the walk, then there was a knock upon the side door, that of the dining room. Martha opened the door. A man's voice, a brisk, businesslike voice, asked a question.
“Why, yes,” replied Miss Phipps, “he lives here. He's right here now. Won't you step in?”
The man who had asked the question accepted the invitation and entered the dining room. He was a big, broad-shouldered man in a raccoon motor coat. He took off a cap which matched the coat and looked about the room. Then he saw Galusha.