“I’m goin’ to find out what an archaeologist is,” she declared.  “I ought to know, but I declare I don’t.”

“An arky-what?  Oh, that’s what that little Mr. Bangs said he was, didn’t he?  You know what I think he is, Miss Martha?”

“No, I don’t.  You go to bed, Primmie.”

“I think he’s an undertaker.”

“Undertaker!  Good heavens and earth, what put that in your head?”

“Everything.  Look at them clothes he wears, black tail-coat and white shirt and stand-up collar and all.  Just exactly same as Emulous Dodd wears when he’s runnin’ a funeral.  Yes, and more’n that—­more’n that, Miss Martha.  Didn’t you hear what he said just now about ’remains’?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you ask him what he went traipsin’ off to that—­that camel place for?  And didn’t he say there was some interestin’ remains there.  Uh-hm! that’s what he said—­’remains.’  If he ain’t an undertaker what—­”

Martha burst out laughing.  “Primmie,” she said, “go to bed.  And don’t forget to get that dictionary to-morrow mornin’.”

The next day was Sunday and the weather still fine.  Galusha Bangs was by this time feeling very much stronger.  Miss Phipps commented upon his appearance at breakfast time.

“I declare,” she exclaimed, “you look as if you’d really had a good night’s rest, Mr. Bangs.  Now you’ll have another biscuit and another egg, won’t you?”

Galusha, who had already eaten one egg and two biscuits, was obliged to decline.  His hostess seemed to think his appetite still asleep.

After breakfast he went out for a walk.  There was a brisk, cool wind blowing and Miss Martha cautioned him against catching cold.  She insisted upon his wrapping a scarf of her own, muffler fashion, about his neck beneath his coat collar and lent him a pair of mittens—­they were Primmie’s property—­to put on in case his hands were cold.  He had one kid glove in his pocket, but only one.

“Dear me!” he said.  “I can’t think what became of the other.  I’m quite certain I had two to begin with.”

Martha laughed.  “I’m certain of that myself,” she said.  “I never heard of anybody’s buying gloves one at a time.”

Her guest smiled.  “It might be well for me to buy them that way,” he observed.  “My brain doesn’t seem equal to the strain of taking care of more than one.”

Primmie and her mistress watched him from the window as he meandered out of the yard.  Primmie made the first remark.

“There now, Miss Martha,” she said, “Don’t he look like an undertaker?  Them black clothes and that standin’ collar and—­and—­ the kind of still way he walks—­and talks.  Wouldn’t you expect him to be sayin’:  ’The friends of the diseased will now have a chanct to—­’”

“Oh, be still, Primmie, for mercy sakes!”

“Yes’m.  What thin little legs he’s got, ain’t he?” Miss Phipps did not reply to her housemaid’s criticism of the Bangs limbs.  Instead, she made an observation of her own.