Makely at a little distance. There were
not many people down to breakfast yet; but I could see that there was a
good deal of subdued sensation among the waitresses, standing with folded
arms behind their tables, and that the head-waiter's handsome face was red
with anxiety.
Mrs. Makely asked if we were going to church. She said she was driving
that way, and would be glad to drop us. "I'm not going myself," she
explained, "because I couldn't make anything of the sermon, with my head
in the state it is, and I'm going to compromise on a good action. I want
to carry some books and papers over to Mrs. Camp. Don't you think that
will be quite as acceptable, Mr. Homos?"
"I should venture to hope it," he said, with a tolerant seriousness not
altogether out of keeping with her lightness.
"Who is Mrs. Camp?" I asked, not caring to commit myself on the question.
"Lizzie's mother. You know I told you about them last night. I think she
must have got through the books I lent her, and I know Lizzie didn't like
to ask me for more, because she saw me talking with you, and didn't want
to interrupt us. Such a nice girl! I think the Sunday papers must have
come, and I'll take them over, too; Mrs.
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