Lapham is well? And
your daughter?"
"Thank you," said Lapham, "they're quite well."
"They were very kind to my wife----"
"Oh, that was nothing!" cried Lapham. "There's nothing
Mrs. Lapham likes better than a chance of that sort.
Mrs. Corey and the young ladies well?"
"Very well, when I heard from them. They're out of town."
"Yes, so I understood," said Lapham, with a nod toward
the son. "I believe Mr. Corey, here, told Mrs. Lapham."
He leaned back in his chair, stiffly resolute to show that he
was not incommoded by the exchange of these civilities.
"Yes," said Bromfield Corey. "Tom has had the pleasure
which I hope for of seeing you all. I hope you're
able to make him useful to you here?" Corey looked
round Lapham's room vaguely, and then out at the clerks
in their railed enclosure, where his eye finally rested
on an extremely pretty girl, who was operating a type-writer.
"Well, sir," replied Lapham, softening for the first time
with this approach to business, "I guess it will be our own
fault if we don't. By the way, Corey," he added, to the
younger man, as he gathered up some letters from his desk,
"here's something in your line. Spanish or French,
I guess."
"I'll run them over," said Corey, taking them to his desk.
His father made an offer to rise.
"Don't go," said Lapham, gesturing him down again.
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