Mr. Malt explained that they had come straight through from Paris, as
time was beginning to press.
"We couldn't leave out Rome," he said, "on account of Mis' Malt's
mother--she made such a point of our seeing the prison of Saint Paul. In
her last letter she was looking forward very anxiously to our safe
return to get an account of it. She's a leader in our experience
meetings, and I couldn't somehow make up my mind to face her without
it."
"Poppa," remarked Emmeline, "is not so foolish as he looks."
"We were just wondering," exclaimed momma, "who that table was laid for.
But we never thought of _you_. Isn't it strange?"
We agreed that it was little short of marvellous.
The tall waiter strolled up for the commands of the Malt party. His
demeanour showed that he resented the Malts, who were, nevertheless,
innocent respectable people. As Emmeline ordered "_cafe au lait pour
tous"_ he scowled and made curious contortions with his lower jaw.
"Anything else you want?" he inquired, with obvious annoyance.
"Yes," said Miss Callis. He further expressed his contempt by twisting
his moustache, and waited in silent disdain.
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