"Miss Fraenkel is coming up to lunch," I said to Bill. "Will you join us, Mr. Carville?"
He stood up shaking his head and brushing the tobacco ash from his vest.
"I'll look in afterwards," he said, "but I told the wife I'd be back to dinner."
"Where was she, all the time, Mr. Carville?" asked Bill.
He laughed and stepped down from the porch.
"I will tell you this afternoon," he said, and reached the sidewalk as Miss Fraenkel crossed the street. He lifted his hat absently and passed on, and she, pausing for a moment, gave him one of those swift and searching glances with which her countrywomen are wont to appraise us. She came on up to us.
"Why didn't you come sooner?" said Bill, "we've been expecting you."
"I've been getting signatures," she replied. "Is that him?"
"Yes. He's coming back after lunch."
"Did you tell him that I want to get his wife to join?"