How do, Mister Ryer?" The
dentist, who had formulated some sort of reserved greeting, he
ignored completely. McTeague settled himself in his seat, growling
inarticulately behind his mustache.
"Say, say, what's all up, anyhow?" cried Marcus again.
"It's a picnic," exclaimed the three women, all speaking at once; and
Trina added, "We're going over to the same old Schuetzen Park again. But
you're all fixed up yourself, Cousin Mark; you look as though you were
going somewhere yourself."
In fact, Marcus was dressed with great care. He wore a new pair of
slate-blue trousers, a black "cutaway," and a white lawn "tie" (for him
the symbol of the height of elegance). He carried also his cane, a thin
wand of ebony with a gold head, presented to him by the Improvement Club
in "recognition of services."
"That's right, that's right," said Marcus, with a grin. "I'm takun a
holiday myself to-day. I had a bit of business to do over at Oakland,
an' I thought I'd go up to B Street afterward and see Selina. I haven't
called on----"
But the party uttered an exclamation.
"Why, Selina is going with us."
"She's going to meet us at the Schuetzen Park station" explained Trina.
Marcus's business in Oakland was a fiction.
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