“Well, ma’am, it’s this way,” explained the foreman with a grin. “Y’u’re right pleasant and friendly, but the boys have got a savvy way down deep that y’u’d shuck that friendliness awful sudden if any of them dropped around with ‘Object, Matrimony’ in their manner. Consequence is, they’re loaded down to the ground with admiration of their boss, but they ain’t presumptuous enough to expaict any more. I had notions, mebbe, I’d cut more ice, me being not afflicted with bashfulness. My notions faded, ma’am, in about a week.”
“Then Nora came?” she laughed.
“No, ma’am, they had gone glimmering long before she arrived. I was just convalescent enough to need being cheered up when she drapped in.”
“And are you cheered up yet?” his mistress asked.
He took off his dusty hat and scratched his head. “I ain’t right certain, yet, ma’am. Soon as I know I’m consoled, I’ll be round with an invite to the wedding.”
“That is, if you are.”
“If I am—yes. Y’u can’t most always tell when they have eyes like hers.”
“You’re quite an authority on the sex considering your years.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked aggrieved, thinking himself a man grown. “How did y’u say Mr. Bannister was?”
“Wait, and I’ll send Nora out to tell you,” she flashed, and disappeared in the house.