But Gifford knew who it was, even before Mary, shuffling asthmatically through the hall, opened the door to say, "Mr.
Forsythe's here to see you." "Ask him to come in," he said, pushing his chair back from the secretary, and lifting the flap to lock it as he spoke.
Dick Forsythe came in, shaking his dripping umbrella, and saying with a good-natured laugh, "Jove! what a wet day! You need a boat to get through the garden.

Your aunt--the old one, I think it was--asked me, if I was passing, to bring you these overshoes.

She was afraid you had none, and would take cold." He laughed again, as though he knew how amusing such nonsense was, and then had a gleam of surprise at Gifford's gravity.
"I'd gone to her house with a message from my mother," he continued; "you know we get off to-morrow.

Mother's decided to go, too, so of course there are a good many things to do, and the old lady is so strict about Ashurst customs I've had to go round and 'return thanks' to everybody." Gifford had taken the parcel from Dick's hand, and thanked him briefly.
The young man, however, seemed in no haste to go.
"I don't know which is damper, this room or out-of-doors," he said, seating himself in Mr.Denner's big chair,--though Gifford was standing--and looking about in an interested way; "must have been a gloomy house to live in.

Wonder he never got married.