“Three cheers for the Judge,” he said, waving his hat in the air, “and then three cheers for the children of Riverport.”
The cheers were given with a will, and then the crowd began to disperse.
Titus slipped up to Mrs. Everest. “Look here, Mrs. Berty, send all these folks out of the house. I can’t, as I’m under my own roof. It’s too much for grandfather.”
“Very well,” she said, nodding her black head. “I’ll just let a few stay.”
“Don’t you let anyone stay,” the boy said, obstinately, “but yourself. Grandfather will want you to explain this affair to him.”
“Not my brother and the Mayor?” she said, wistfully.
“No brothers and no mayors,” said the boy. “Excuse me for seeming rude, but grandfather looks pale. He wasn’t well yesterday.”
Mrs. Everest ran up to the Mayor and whispered to him.
He was a man of businesslike methods, and in ten minutes there wasn’t a person in the house outside the family, except Mrs. Tom Everest, though a few groups still loitered on the sidewalk.
She went into the study with the Judge and Bethany, and Titus ran downstairs to tell Higby to let no one come upstairs without permission.