"What a comfort it is to meet a person who knows his own mind!" exclaimed
Mrs. Munger.

"Got company, Billy?" asked a voice at the door; and it added, "Glad to see
_you_ here, Mrs. Gerrish."

"Ah, Mr. Putney! Come in. Hope I see you well, sir!" cried Mr. Gerrish.
"Come in!" he repeated, with jovial frankness. "Nobody but friends here."

"I don't know about that," said Mr. Putney, with whimsical perversity,
holding the door ajar. "I see that arch-conspirator from South Hatboro',"
he said, looking at Mrs. Munger.

He showed himself, as he stood holding the door ajar, a lank little figure,
dressed with reckless slovenliness in a suit of old-fashioned black; a
loose neck-cloth fell stringing down his shirt front, which his unbuttoned
waistcoat exposed, with its stains from the tobacco upon which his thin
little jaws worked mechanically, as he stared into the room with flamy blue
eyes; his silk hat was pushed back from a high, clear forehead; he had
yesterday's stubble on his beardless cheeks; a heavy moustache and imperial
gave dash to a cast of countenance that might otherwise have seemed slight
and effeminate.

"Yes; but I'm in charge of Miss Kilburn, and you needn't be afraid of me.
Come in. We wish to consult you," cried Mrs. Munger. Mrs. Gerrish cackled
some applausive incoherencies.

Putney advanced into the room, and dropped his burlesque air as he
approached Annie.