"Ain't dey some of 'em here?" demanded T-S.
"Yes, that's true. There are some not far away, who are developing a
desire to meet Mr. Carpenter, unless I miss the signs."
"Vere are dey at?" demanded T-S.
"I won't tell you that," I laughed, "because you'd turn and stare
into their faces."
"So he vould!" broke in Maw. "How often I gotta tell you, Abey? You
got no more manners dan if you vas a jimpanzy."
"All right," said the magnate, grinning good naturedly. "I'll keep
a-eatin' my dinner. Who is it?"
"It's Mrs. Parmelee Stebbins," said I. "She boasts a salon, and has
to have what are called lions, and she's been watching Mr. Carpenter
out of the corner of her eye ever since he came into the
room--trying to figure out whether he's a lion, or only an actor. If
his skin were a bit dark, she would be sure he was an Eastern
potentate; as it, she's afraid he's of domestic origin, in which
case he's vulgar. The company he keeps is against him; but
still--Mrs. Stebbins has had my eye three times, hoping I would give
her a signal, I haven't given it, so she's about to leave.
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