"
"How came he to come down with you?" asked Mrs. Lapham.
"Who? Rogers?"
"Mr. Corey."
"Corey? Oh!" said Lapham, affecting not to have thought
she could mean Corey. "He proposed it."
"Likely!" jeered his wife, but with perfect amiability.
"It's so," protested the Colonel. "We got talking about
a matter just before I left, and he walked down to the boat
with me; and then he said if I didn't mind he guessed
he'd come along down and go back on the return boat.
Of course I couldn't let him do that."
"It's well for you you couldn't."
"And I couldn't do less than bring him here to tea."
"Oh, certainly not."
"But he ain't going to stay the night--unless,"
faltered Lapham, "you want him to."
"Oh, of course, I want him to! I guess he'll stay, probably."
"Well, you know how crowded that last boat always is,
and he can't get any other now."
Mrs. Lapham laughed at the simple wile. "I hope you'll
be just as well satisfied, Si, if it turns out he doesn't
want Irene after all."
"Pshaw, Persis! What are you always bringing that up for?"
pleaded the Colonel. Then he fell silent, and presently
his rude, strong face was clouded with an unconscious frown.
"There!" cried his wife, startling him from his abstraction.
"I see how you'd feel; and I hope that you'll remember
who you've got to blame.
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