"Smooth speech and agreeable manners go farther with women than they do in business," Hartwell snapped out.
"I hope you have a good business equipment to console yourself with."
Hartwell made no reply to his sister, but busied himself unstrapping her trunk.
"Dress for supper as soon as you can. You have an hour," he added, looking at his watch.
Hartwell did not find Firmstone on re-entering the office. He seated himself at the desk and began looking over files of reports of mine and mill. Their order and completeness should have pleased him, but, from the frown on his face, they evidently did not.
Firmstone, meanwhile, had gone to the cook-house to warn Bennie of his coming guests, and to advise the garnishing of the table with the whitest linen and the choicest viands which his stores could afford.
"What sort of a crowd are they?" Bennie inquired.
"You'll be able to answer your own question in a little while. That will save you the trouble of changing your mind."
"'Tis no trouble at all, sir! It's a damned poor lobster that doesn't know what to do when his shell pinches!"
Firmstone, laughing, went to the mill for a tour of inspection before the supper hour. Entering the office a little later, he found Hartwell at his desk.
"Well," he asked, "how do you find things?"
Hartwell's eyes were intrenched in a series of absorbed wrinkles that threw out supporting works across a puckered forehead.
"It's too soon to speak in detail. I propose to inform myself generally before doing that."
Hartwell looked up sharply. Firmstone's eyes seemed to neutralise the emphasis of his words.
"Supper is ready when you are. Will Miss Hartwell be down soon?"
Miss Hartwell rustled into the room, and her brother led the way to the cook-house.
Bennie had heeded Firmstone's words. Perhaps there was a lack of delicate taste in the assortment of colours, but scarlet-pinks, deep red primroses, azure columbines, and bright yellow mountain sunflowers glared at each other, each striving to outreach its fellow above a matted bed of mossy phlox. Hartwell prided himself, among other things, on a correct eye.
"There's a colour scheme for you, Beatrice; you can think of it in your next study."
Bennie was standing by in much the same attitude as a suspicious bumble-bee.