Barnes was the name, wasn't it?"
"Why, not exactly. My name is Bangs, but it really doesn't matter in
the least. Dear me, no. I am a relative of Mr. Cabot's. But that doesn't
matter either. Good-morning, Mr. Barbour."
But it did seem to matter, after all. At any rate, Mr. Barbour for the
first time appeared actually interested.
"Eh?" he exclaimed. "Bangs? Oh, just a minute, Mr. Bangs. Just a minute,
if you please. Bangs? Why, are you--You're not the--er--professor?
Professor Ga--Ga--"
"Galusha. Yes, I am Galusha Bangs."
"You don't mean it! Well, well, that's odd! I was planning to write you
to-day, Professor. Let me see, here's the memorandum now. We look after
your business affairs, I believe, Professor?"
Galusha nodded. He was anxious to get away. The significance of Cousin
Gussie's illness and absence and what those might mean to Martha Phipps
were beginning to dawn upon him. He wanted to get away and think. The
very last thing he wished to do was to discuss his own business affairs.
"Yes," he admitted; "yes, you--ah--do. That is, Cousin Gussie--ah--Mr.
Cabot does. But, really, I--"
"I won't keep you but a moment, Professor. And what I'm going to tell
you is good news, at that. I presume it IS news; or have you heard of
the Tinplate melon?"
It was quite evident that Galusha had not heard. Nor, hearing now, did
the news convey anything to his mind.
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