We jumped from the
wagon and were watching the people file out of the car, and I noticed
that more than one paused to look back over their shoulders as they
reached the door. Then came a maid with hand-bag and shawls, and after
her a tall young lady. She stood for a moment holding her skirt above
the grimy steps, with something of the stately pose which Richter has
given his Queen Louise on the stairway, and the light of the reflector
fell full upon her. She looked around expectantly, and recognizing Mrs.
Cooke's maid, who had stepped forward to relieve hers of the shawls, Miss
Thorn greeted her with a smile which greatly prepossessed us in her
favor.
"How do you do, Jennie?" she said. "Did any one else come?"
"Yes, Miss Marian," replied Jennie, abashed but pleased,--"these
gentlemen."
Farrar and I introduced ourselves, awkwardly enough, and we both tried to
explain at once how it was that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Cooke was there to
meet her. Of course we made an absolute failure of it. She scanned our
faces with a puzzled expression for a while and then broke into a laugh.
"I think I understand," she said; "they are having the house-warming."
"She's first-rate at guessing," said Farrar to me as we fled
precipitately to see that the trunks were hoisted into the basket.
Neither of us had much presence of mind as we climbed into the wagon,
and, what was even stranger, could not account for the lack of it.
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