It was more like the acknowledgment, by a queen in her chariot, of the applauding citizen on the sidewalk.

She saw me, and she deigned to let me know that I was seen, that was all.
But when I inferred that her daughter had forgotten, or had decided not to make the call at our house, I misjudged the young lady.

I returned, one afternoon, from a cruise up and down the bay in the Comfort, to find our small establishment--the Rogers portion of it, at least--in a high state of excitement.

Lute and Dorinda were in the kitchen and before I reached the back door, which was open, I heard their voices in animated discussion.
"Why wouldn't I say it, Dorinda ?" pleaded Lute.

"You can't blame me none.