"I say it do be a pity Madame could not 'ave waited," he grumbled to
Mrs. Budge. "To 'ave the poor little fellow arrive here alone don't seem
right. But Madame says 'Harkness, you'll do everything--'"
"Everything!" snorted Mrs. Budge, who had just come down from dusting
the "boy's" room. The familiar "clutter," as she had always called it,
had roused poignant memories, so that her wrinkled face was streaked now
and red. "'Pears to me most you do is talk--and talk big. It's Harkness
this and Harkness that! To be sure _my_ mother was a plain New England
woman--"
"Now, Budge, now, Budge," interrupted Harkness, consolingly. "No one as
I know is going to dispute that your mother was a plain New England
woman. And we're not going to quarrel at such a rememberable moment, not
we. And we're going to give Mr. Gordon a welcome as is befitting a
Forsyth. At the appointed hour we'll gather at the door--you must stand
at the head of the long line of servants--"
"Long line of servants! And where do you expect to get them, I'd like to
know? Things have been at sixes and sevens in this house ever since the
gloom came.
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