Even Martha, who by this time was used to his eccentricities, thought his conduct strange.
“Why, Mr. Bangs,” she cried, “are you sick? What is it?”
Galusha blinked, put a hand to his forehead, knocked off his spectacles, picked them up again and, in doing so, appeared to pick up a little of his normal self.
“Why, Cousin Gussie,” he observed, for the third time; adding, “I—I am surprised.”
His cousin's laugh made the little room echo.
“Good, Loosh!” he exclaimed. “I guessed as much; you looked it. Well, it is all right; I'm here in the flesh. Aren't you glad to see me?”
Galusha stammered that he was very glad to see him—yes, indeed—ah—quite so—very, of course.
“Ah—ah—won't you sit down?” he asked.
Martha could stand it no longer. “Why, mercy's sakes, Mr. Bangs,” she exclaimed, “of course he'll sit down! And he'd probably take off his coat, if you asked him.”
This pointed hint had an immediate effect. Her lodger sprang forward.