Josie and Angie sidled together, giggling and simpering, quite overcome by his manner. A muffled "How de do?" from Angie and a half-strangled echo of the salutation from the other were barely articulate. But hearing them he bowed again, separately to each.
"Good-afternoon," said he, and waited in an inquiring pose.
"This—'this is Mr. Duncan, isn't it?" inquired Josie, controlling herself.
"Yes, and you are Miss Lockwood, if I'm not mistaken?"
Renewed giggles prefaced her: "Oh, how did you know?"
"Could anyone remain two weeks in Radville and not hear of Miss Lockwood?"
The shot told famously. "How nice of you! Mr. Duncan, I want you to meet my friend, Miss Tuthill."
"I've had the honour of admiring Miss Tuthill from a distance," Duncan assured the younger woman. And, "She'll burn up!" he feared secretly, watching the conflagration of blushes that she displayed. "Just think of getting away with a line of mush like that! Harry was right after all: this is a country town, all right."
"And—and are you working here, Mr. Duncan?" Josie pursued.
"I'm supposed to be; I'm afraid I don't know the business very well, as yet."