“Sort of a comedy of errors,” suggested Ned.
Mr. Goupil seized on the phrase with enthusiasm. “Yes, yes, a comedy of errors! You’ll say so! A comedy of errors of a certainty, beyond a matter of a doubt! But now, at last, it is finis. All is satisfactorily arranged. You shall hear. First, then, I offered my dear sister-in-law a nice home in Sioux City, but no, she must stay here where it has been her home and her people’s home for so long a time. Also”—Mr. Goupil laughed enjoyably—“also, Mr. Laurie, she fears the Indians! But at last it is arranged. In the fall she will return to her house. By then it will be a place worthy of the sister of my dear and greatly lamented wife. To-morrow I shall give orders, oh, many orders! You shall see. It will be—” Mr. Goupil raised his eyes ecstatically—“magnificent!”
“Well, that certainly is great,” said Laurie. “I can’t tell you how pleased I—we both are, Mr. Goupil.”
Mr. Goupil bowed again, but without arising, and smiled his own pleasure. “I shall ask you to believe, Mr. Laurie, that never did I suspect that my dear sister-in-law was in any need of assistance. But now I understand. It shall be arranged. From now on—” He waved a hand grandly. Words would have said far less.
He arose. Laurie arose. Ned arose. Mr. Goupil bowed. Laurie and Ned bowed.
“Once more, Mr. Laurie, I thank you for your kindness to my dear sister-in-law. I thank also your so noble brother. I shall be in Orstead for several days and it will give me great pleasure to see you again. We shall meet, yes?”
“Of a certainty,” answered Laurie, with no thought of impertinence. “To-morrow, perhaps, at Miss Comfort’s, sir. We are going there in the morning to say good-by to her.”
“Excellent! Until the morning, then.” Mr. Goupil bowed. Laurie bowed. Ned bowed. Mr. Goupil placed his derby in place, gave it an admonishing tap, smiled pleasantly once more, and was gone.
Laurie closed the door after him and leaned weakly against it.
“If anything else happens to-night,” he sighed, “I’ll go batty!”