Cope listened with a decorous
attention which was designed to indicate the highest degree of sympathetic
interest; but his attitude, so finely composed within, yet so ineffectively
displayed without, was as nothing to the loud promptness of Pearson's
praise. Amy glanced at Cope with questioning surprise; but she met
Pearson's excesses of commendation with a gratified smile.
Shortly before ten o'clock there was a stir at the front door. Mrs.
Phillips rose hastily. "It is M. Pelouse; let me go down and pet him."
Yes, it was M. Pelouse. "Oh, Madame!" he said, as before, but with an
expressiveness doubly charged, "what a climate!" He was panting and was
covered with fine snow. Behind him was Peter, looking very grave and dour.
"Shall I be wanted further?" asked Peter in a tense tone, and with no trace
of his usual good-natured smile.
"What! Again?" cried Mrs. Phillips, while Helga, farther up the hall, was
undoing the Professor; "three times on a night like this? No, indeed! Get
back into the garage as fast as you can."
"Oh, Madame!" said the Professor, now out of his wrappings and in better
control of his voice.
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