"
Before the man could reply, Rushbrook was already giving a hurried
interview to the gardener and others on his way to the front porch. In
another moment he had entered his own hall,--a wonderful temple of white
and silver plaster, formal, yet friable like the sugared erection of a
wedding cake,--where his major-domo awaited him.
"Well, who's here?" asked Rushbrook, still advancing towards his
apartments.
"Dinner is set for thirty, sir," said the functionary, keeping step
demurely with his master, "but Mr. Appleby takes ten over to San
Mateo, and some may sleep there. The char-a-banc is still out and five
saddle-horses, to a picnic in Green Canyon, and I can't positively say,
but I should think you might count on seeing about forty-five guests
before you go to town to-morrow. The opera troupe seem to have not
exactly understood the invitation, sir."
"How? I gave it myself."
"The chorus and supernumeraries thought themselves invited too, sir, and
have come, I believe, sir.
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