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Hepton, the landlady, plump, gray-haired, and graciously hospitable. She did not look at all like a business woman, but appearances are not always to be trusted; Mrs. Hepton had learned not to trust them also delinquent boarders, too far. He met Miss Sherborne, whose coiffure did not match in spots, but whose voice, so he learned afterward, had been "cultivated abroad."
A short, gray-haired old colonel, with a dark, eagle look, proceeded to inspect us, reading from a paper as he came along, "Mr. Hepton, 6th Foot; commission bearing date 11th January; drilled, proceed to Ovar, and join his regiment. "Mr. Gronow, Fusilier Guards, remains with the depot. "Captain Mortimer, 1st Dragoons, appointed aide-de-camp to the general commanding the cavalry brigade. "Mr.
"What do you think, Hosy!" she cried. "I've got a letter and you can't guess who it's from." "From Susanna?" I ventured. "Susanna! You don't suppose I'd be as excited as all this over a letter from Susanna Wixon, do you? No indeed! I've got a letter from Mrs. Hepton, who had the Nickerson cottage last summer.
The flavor of that luncheon we had last time I was here has been hangin' 'round the edges of my mouth and tantalizin' my memory ever since." "We had a souffle that noon, if I remember correctly, Captain," observed the flattered Mrs. Hepton. "Did you? Well, I declare! I'd have sworn 'twas a biled-dinner hash. Knew 'twas better than any I ever ate afore, but I'd have bet 'twas hash, just the same.
She and her husband are in Paris and they want us to meet 'em there in a couple of weeks and go for a short trip through Switzerland. They got our address from Mr. Campbell before they left home. Mrs. Hepton writes that they're countin' on our company. They're goin' to Lake Lucerne and to Mont Blanc and everywhere. Wouldn't it be splendid!"
"I say, Curzon, you'll be confoundedly jealous though, for he is to play with Fanny." "I rather think not," said Curzon, who was a little tipsy. "Oh, yes," said Frazer, "Hepton is right.
Pearson came on Monday, having written the day before. He did not mail the note himself, but trusted it to Mrs. Hepton, who was going out to attend evening service. She forgot it until the next day. So it happened that when he alighted from the train at the suburban station the captain was not there to meet him.
Pearson, who seemed to think it time to say something, declared that, so far as he knew, he had no cold or any symptoms of one. "Well," said Mrs. Hepton, with conviction, "something ails you, I know. We can all see it; can't we?" turning to the rest of the company. "Why, you've scarcely spoken since you sat down at the table. And you've eaten next to nothing.
Collars and neckties and shirts are in the upper tray. I've hung your dress suit in the closet in case you want it, though that isn't likely. And be careful what you eat, and don't smoke too much, and Yes, Mr. Hepton, I'm comin' and don't spend ALL your money in book-stores; you'll need some of it in Switzerland. And Oh, dear, Hosy! do be a good boy.
The original bureau had pictures of cauliflowers painted on each drawer front. Mrs. Hepton my landlady was convinced that they were roses. I told her she might be right, but, at all events, looking at them made me hungry. Perhaps she noticed the effect on my appetite and was willing for me to substitute." The captain laughed. Then, pointing, he asked: "What's that handbill?"
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