Mary was the picture of a lady flustered.

She stood with one hand closing the gate behind her, and she had turned to go in the direction Bibbs was walking.

There appeared to be nothing for it but that they should walk together, at least as far as the New House.

But Bibbs had paused in his slow stride, and there elapsed an instant before either spoke or moved--it was no longer than that, and yet it sufficed for each to seem to say, by look and attitude, "Why, it's YOU!" Then they both spoke at once, each hurriedly pronouncing the other's name as if about to deliver a message of importance.

Then both came to a stop simultaneously, but Bibbs made a heroic effort, and as they began to walk on together he contrived to find his voice.
"I--I--hate a frozen fish myself," he said.