A polite smile flickered on the faces of our three visitors, and died out in silence. Stella once more shot a glance at me.
We turned toward the house. “If you will excuse me for a few moments, I will make myself fit to brew you some tea,” said my wife, holding open the door.
“That is very kind, but we’ll not remain to-day, I think,” Mrs. Eckstrom replied. “We will just glance at what you have done to this awful old house. It was certainly an eyesore before you bought it.”
“I liked it all gray and weathered,” Stella answered. “In fact, I didn’t want it painted. But apparently you have to paint things to preserve them. Still, the Lord made wood before man made paint.”
“He also made man before man made clothes,” said I.
A polite smile from the girl followed this remark. Her father and mother seemed unaware of it. They gave our beautiful living-room a casual glance, and the man took in especially the books–in bulk.
“You are one of these literary chaps, I hear,” he said. “I suppose you need all these books in your business?”
“Well, hardly all,” I answered. “Some few I read for pleasure. Will you smoke?”
I offered him a cigar.
“Thanks, no,” said he. “Doctor’s orders. I can do nothing I want to. Diet, and all that. Damn nuisance, too. Why, once I used to––”