ejected, disgraced.

As they got off the local train at B Street station they suddenly
collided with the whole tribe of Sieppes--the mother, father, three
children, and Trina--equipped for one of their eternal picnics. They
were to go to Schuetzen Park, within walking distance of the station.
They were grouped about four lunch baskets. One of the children, a
little boy, held a black greyhound by a rope around its neck. Trina wore
a blue cloth skirt, a striped shirt waist, and a white sailor; about her
round waist was a belt of imitation alligator skin.

At once Mrs. Sieppe began to talk to Marcus. He had written of their
coming, but the picnic had been decided upon after the arrival of his
letter. Mrs. Sieppe explained this to him. She was an immense old lady
with a pink face and wonderful hair, absolutely white. The Sieppes were
a German-Swiss family.

"We go to der park, Schuetzen Park, mit alle dem childern, a little
eggs-kursion, eh not soh? We breathe der freshes air, a celubration, a
pignic bei der seashore on. Ach, dot wull be soh gay, ah?"

"You bet it will. It'll be outa sight," cried Marcus, enthusiastic in
an instant. "This is m' friend Doctor McTeague I wrote you about, Mrs.
Sieppe."

"Ach, der doktor," cried Mrs. Sieppe.

McTeague was presented, shaking hands gravely as Marcus shouldered him
from one to the other.