All the sweetness and patience was there with
which the wives of high tempered, obstinate men are not infrequently
blessed.
"Mary, this is young Enoch Huntingdon," said Seaton.
Mrs. Seaton offered her hand, which Nucky took awkwardly and
unsmilingly. "How do you do, Enoch! Mr. Seaton told me about your red
hair and your fine old name. Are you going to stay with us a little
while?"
"I don't know, ma'am," replied Enoch.
"Sit down, Enoch! Sit down!" Seaton waved Enoch impatiently toward a
seat while he took the arm chair beside his wife. "Mary, I've got to
take that trip to San Francisco, after all. Houghton and Company
insist on my looking into that Jameson law-suit for them."
Mary Seaton looked up, a little aghast. "But mercy, John! I can't get
away now, with Sister Alice coming!"
"I know that. So I'm going to take Enoch with me."
"Oh!" Mary looked from her husband to Enoch, sitting awkwardly on the
edge of the Chippendale chair. His usually pale face was a little
flushed and his thin lips were set firmly together. From her scrutiny
of Enoch's face, she turned to his hands. They were large and bony and
the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand were yellow.
"You don't look as if you'd been eating the right kind of things,
Enoch," she said, kindly.
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