“Why, hello, Loosh!” he said.
Galusha knew him, had recognized the voice before he saw its owner. His mouth opened, shut, and opened again. He was quite pale.
“Ah—ah—why, Cousin Gussie!” he stammered.
For the man in the fur coat standing there in Martha Phipps' dining room was the senior partner of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot.
CHAPTER XIX
For perhaps thirty seconds after the exchange of greetings, the trio in the Phipps' dining room stood where they were, practically without moving. Mr. Cabot, of course, was smiling broadly, Miss Phipps was gazing in blank astonishment from one to the other of the two men, and Galusha Bangs was staring at his relative as Robinson Crusoe stared at the famous footprint, “like one thunderstruck.”
It was Cabot who broke up the tableau. His smile became a hearty laugh.
“What's the matter, Loosh?” he demanded. “Great Scott, old man, I expected to surprise you, but I didn't expect to give you a paralytic stroke. How are you?”
He walked over and held out his hand. Galusha took it, but he looked as if he was quite unaware of doing so. “Cousin Gussie!” he repeated, faintly. Then he added his favorite exclamation. “Dear me!”