“Of course you’ve got the first call, Arthur,” said Henderson with cheerful impudence. “The town is getting impatient waiting for you to show your hand.”
“I’m sorry to keep my fellow citizens waiting,” Carroll replied. “Of course there are always Miss Mills’s wishes to consider.”
“Oh, well, there is that! Bruce, with his known affection for the arts, may prefer the lovely Millicent. He’s not worth troubling about as a competitor. Well, I must skip back to Maybelle! Wait till I get downstairs before you begin knocking me!”
“Don’t be in a rush,” said Bruce.
“Oh, I’ll go now!” said Bud as he lounged out. “I want you to have plenty of time to skin me properly!”
“Bud’s a mighty good fellow,” said Carroll when they were alone. “He and Maybelle give a real tang to our social affairs. I suppose we have Bud to thank for bringing you here.”
“Oh, not altogether!” Bruce replied. “I was alone in the world and my home town hadn’t much to offer an architect.”
“Your profession does need room. I was born right here and expect to be buried among my ancestors. Let me see—did I hear that you’re from the East?”
The question on its face was courteously perfunctory; Mills would certainly not have done anything so clumsy, Bruce reflected, as to send Carroll to probe into his history.
“I’m an Ohioan—born in Laconia,” he replied.