"That is right. You will find some difference, Mr. Conrad, between our humble accommodations and the sumptuous elegance of your own home; but we will try and make it up by a hearty welcome."
"I wish he wouldn't use the word humble so much," thought Walter.
Walter went upstairs, preceded by Mr. Drummond, who insisted on carrying his carpet-bag, for his trunk would not arrive till the next day, having been forwarded by express.
"I say, mother," remarked Joshua, "the old man's awfully polite to this young fellow."
"You shouldn't speak of your father in that way, Joshua."
"Oh, what's the odds? He is an old man, isn't he? I just wish he'd be as polite to me. I say, I hope he'll like his boarding-place. What are you going to have for supper?"
"Hot biscuit, cake, and two kinds of pie."
"Whew! won't the old man look like a thundercloud?"
"That's what he told me to get. You do your father injustice, Joshua."
Mrs. Drummond knew in her secret heart that her husband was intensely mean; but she was one of those who like to think as well as possible of every one, and was glad of an opportunity to prove that he could, on rare occasions, be more generous.