“Oh, no; you will excuse my remaining with you—I have an engagement. I will tell the servants to receive your trunk, and put it in your room. Our lunch will be ready at one o’clock.”
“Thank you,” said Gilbert, hastily; “I think I shall not be here at lunch. I want to go about the city.”
It was eleven o’clock; and he was sure he could not kill the time in that frigid parlor for two hours.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Briggs; “then we shall see you at dinner. Our dinner-hour is six.”
“Thank you, madam.”
“If you come earlier, you can ask to be shown to your room.”
Gilbert thanked her again.
“Now I must leave you. Good-morning.”
Mrs. Briggs sailed out of the room, and Gilbert, following her, let himself out into the street.
“So that’s what they call a city mansion,” he said to himself. “I’d ten times rather be in my room at Dr. Burton’s. I felt as if I was in danger of stifling in that showy parlor. I hope I am not going to live there.”