Winthrop’s laugh held a touch of exasperation.
“But, Great Scott! Major, you’re proposing to turn me out of my own house!”
“Bless your soul, sir, don’t say that! Dear, dear! Does it sound that way to you? My apologies, Mr. Winthrop! I won’t say another word, sir!”
The Major rolled the cigar agitatedly about in the corner of his loose mouth.
“Look here,” said Winthrop, “let’s understand each other, Major. I have come into possession of this property and we’ll allow for the sake of the argument that it holds no sentimental value for me. Now what do you propose I should do? Sign a new rental and pack up my things and go home again?”
“Nothing of the kind, sir, I assure you! What I meant to convey was that as you were intending to stay here in Corunna only two or three months, you could perhaps be quite as comfortable in the Palmetto House as at Waynewood. The Palmetto House, sir, is a very well-managed hotel, sir, and you would receive the most hospitable treatment.”
“Thanks for your frankness, Major. This Palmetto House is in the village?”
“It is, sir. It faces the court-house on the south.”