“Shut up, Cheep!” he remarked to a frantic canary hanging in the sunshine.
“Your friend seems a nice-appearing young man,” said Grandma Orde. “Wouldn't he stay to dinner?”
“I asked him,” replied Orde, “but he couldn't. He and I have a scheme for making our everlasting fortunes.”
“Who is he?” asked grandma.
Orde dropped his napkin into his lap with a comical chuckle of dismay.
“Blest if I have the slightest idea, mother,” he said. “Newmark joined us on the drive. Said he was a lawyer, and was out in the woods for his health. He's been with us, studying and watching the work, ever since.”
IX
“I think I'll go see Jane Hubbard this evening,” Orde remarked to his mother, as he arose from the table. This was his method of announcing that he would not be home for supper.
Jane Hubbard lived in a low one-story house of blue granite, situated amid a grove of oaks at the top of the hill. She was a kindly girl, whose parents gave her free swing, and whose house, in consequence, was popular with the younger people. Every Sunday she offered to all who came a “Sunday-night lunch,” which consisted of cold meats, cold salad, bread, butter, cottage cheese, jam, preserves, and the like, warmed by a cup of excellent tea. These refreshments were served by the guests themselves. It did not much matter how few or how many came.