"Mamma," suddenly exclaimed the daughter, "there are old Mr. and Mrs.
Bartol! I do believe you are to be honored by a call from them."
"I sincerely hope not," was the answer. "Papa and I had planned a walk
on this lovely evening, and our friends the Bartols are given to long
sittings."
"Besides being insufferably prosy," interpolated plain-spoken Nettie.
"They _are_ coming in. Milly, you and I can run away!" and they
fluttered through the back-parlor door.
Mamma's face was overcast with genuine vexation. Her sigh, "How
provoking!" reached the alcoved auditor. Then she advanced to meet a
fat old lady, and a fatter, bald old gentleman.
"Is this really you, Mr. Bartol? It is an age since I have met you. I
am happy to see you both. Pray be seated."
"Oh, _good_ gracious!" said Robby, under his breath, sinking back into
his corner, actually sick and trembling.
When he could listen and think again, papa had been sent for, and Mr.
Bartol was apologizing for mingling business with a friendly visit. He
wanted to buy a house owned by Mr. Wilcox, situated near his--Mr.
Bartol's--home. The play of negotiation, of parry and thrust, was
courteous, as befitted actors and scene, but Mr.
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