Then she wrote to invite him to late Sunday breakfast at the
Gilsons'--they made a function of it, and called it bruncheon. The hour
was given as ten-thirty; most people came at noon; but Milt arrived at
ten-thirty-one, and found only a sleepy butler in sight.
He waited in the drawing-room for five minutes, feeling like a
bill-collector. Into the room vaulted a medium-sized, medium-looking,
amiable man, Eugene Gilson, babbling, "Oh, I say, so sorry to keep you
waiting, Mr. Daggett. Rotten shame, do come have a bun or something,
frightfully informal these bruncheons, play auction?"
"Zallright--no," said Milt.
The host profusely led him to a dining-room where--in English fashion,
or something like English fashion, or anyway a close approximation to
the fictional pictures of English fashion--kidneys and sausages and
omelets waited in dishes on the side-board. Mr. Gilson poured coffee,
and chanted: "Do try the kidneys. They're usually very fair. Miss Boltwood tells me
that you were very good to her on the trip. Must have been jolly trip.
You going to be in town some time, oh yes, Claire said you were in the
university, engineering, wasn't it? have you ever seen our lumbermills,
do drop around some---- Try the omelet before the beastly thing gets
cold, do you mind kicking that button, we'll have some more omelet
in--any time at the mill and I'll be glad to have some one show you
through, how did you find the roads along the Red Trail?"
"Why, pretty fair," said Milt.
Into the room precipitated Mrs. Gilson, in a smile, a super-sweater, and
a sports skirt that would have been soiled by any variety of sport more
violent than pinochle, and she was wailing as she came: "We're disgraced, Gene, is this Mr. Daggett? how do you do, so good of
you to come, do try the kidneys, they're usually quite decent, are the
omelets warm, you might ring for some more, Gene, for heaven's sake give
me some coffee, Miss Boltwood will be right down, Mr. Daggett, she told
us how fortunate they were that they met you on the road, did you like
the trip, how were the roads?"
"Why, they were pretty good," said Milt.
Claire arrived, fresh and serene in white taffeta, and she cried
prettily, "I ought to have known that you'd be prompt even if no one
else in the world is, so glad you came, have you tried the kidneys, and
do have an--oh, I see you have tried the omelets, how goes the work at
the university?"
"Why, fine," said Milt.
He ate stolidly, and looked pleased, and sneaked in a glance at his new
(and still tight and still squeaky) tan boots to make sure that they
were as well polished as they had seemed at home.