Reaching the living-room described above, Tom Rettle, for such was
the name of the shorter of the two--the one to whom the house, or
home, or dwelling, belonged--was greeted by his wife, Anna, a buxom
woman of perhaps thirty-four or thirty-five, certainly not _more_ than
thirty-five, if one were to judge by her fresh, wholesome color and the
sparkle of her brownish-gray eyes, or even by her well-rounded form,
her--
(_Print attached passport description of Anna Rettle._)
“Well, hello, Anna,” said Tom, pleasantly, for Tom Rettle was, as a
matter of fact, a very pleasant man unless he were angered, and his
blue eyes smiled in a highly agreeable manner.
“Well, hello, Tom,” replied Anna, for it was indeed Anna who spoke, in
a soft, well-modulated voice, too, giving the impression of being an
extremely agreeable sort of a woman.
“Anna, I want you to meet a very good friend of mine, Arthur Berolston,
a very good friend of mine,” said Tom, politely, looking, at the same
time, at both Anna and Berolston.
“I’m very happy to meet Mr. Berolston,” added Anna, genially, although
one could see that in her heart she wished that Tom would bring a
little different type of friends home, a thing she had often spoken to
him about when they were alone, as they often were.
“Dat’s very good of yer ter say, Missus Rettle,” replied Berolston, in
modern slang, which made him sound even more uncouth than he looked,
which was uncouth enough. “For de love o’ Mike!”
At this indication of a rough bringing-up on the part of her husband’s
acquaintance, Anna Rettle winced slightly but showed no other sign
of her emotions. Tom was such a kind-hearted fellow! So good! So
kind-hearted! Tom was.
“What is there for supper tonight, Anna?” asked Tom, when the wincing
had died down. “You know how well I like cole slaw, and have always
liked it.”
“I certainly do know your fondness for cole slaw, Tom,” replied his
wife, but with a note of regret in her voice, for she was thinking that
she had no cole slaw for supper on the particular night of which we are
speaking. “But you will remember that we had cole slaw last night with
the cold tongue, and night before last with the baked beans and--”
(_Run attached “Fifteen Midsummer Menus for Cole Slaw Lovers.”_)