what he called "togging up," after a hard day's work at the slaughter-house.
If, then, he listened to Mrs. Potts at first with wonder-widening eyes, amazed at Mr. Emerson's recklessness in the matter of telegrams, and if at last he fell into gentle slumber, perhaps it was only that he had been less hardened than others present to the rigors of social nicety. No one else fell asleep, but it was noticed that the guests, when the paper was done, praised it to one another in swift generalities and with averted face, as if they sought to evade specific or pointed inquiry as to its import. But the impression made by the reader was all that she could have wished, and the gathering was presently engrossed with refreshments. The Argus stated that "a dainty collation was served to all present, the menu comprising the choicest delicacies of the season," which I took to mean that Solon was trying to profit by instruction; and that never again would he permit a table in the Argus to groan with its weight of good things.
Westley Keyts, being skilfully awakened without scandal by his wife, drank a cup of strong coffee to clear his brain, and cordially consumed as many segments of cake as he was able to glean from passing trays, speculating comfortably, meanwhile, about the message of Emerson,—chiefly as to why Emerson had not sent it by mail, thus saving—he estimated at least a hundred and twenty dollars in telegraph tolls.
