I have obtained permission to call again."
"You'll have to do it without me, my dear fellow," returned Overtop,
tossing back his head from force of habit, the offensive cowlick being
then suppressed by his hat. "Nothing on earth could induce me to speak
to that dull widow again."
"She doesn't live there," said Quigg. "She is some connection, I
believe, of the queer old Dutchman that I spoke of, and is probably only
helping Miss Whedell to receive callers. I should think, from the way
they abuse each other, that they were old and dear friends."
CHAPTER IX.
MRS. SLAPMAN AT HOME.
Full of new and pleasant thoughts, Marcus Wilkeson walked on toward the
half-antique house which contained the strange old gentleman. Just as he
was about to swing back the iron gate of the front yard, he saw, at a
distance, the two friends of his bosom and Mr. Quigg descending a flight
of steps to the sidewalk. They saw him at the same time; and both
Overtop and Maltboy violently beckoned him to approach. Mr. Quigg added
his solicitations in a calmer and more dignified manner, moving his arm
like an automaton three times from the elbow.
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