"LETTERS. One for you, Sylvester, from Doris. And another for me, from Mrs. Brutt."
The burly Rector sat at one end of the breakfast-table; and at the other Mrs. Winton presided, with her usual air of state. She never forgot that a Peer of the Realm was her distant cousin. They studied their missives in silence.
"What a woman it is!" came presently. "The amount of talk! What does Doris say?"
"Wants to climb another mountain. Mrs. Brutt refuses consent."
"She shows some sense—for once!"
"So the child appeals to us."
Mr. Winton read on, smiling to himself.
"Mrs. Brutt says she has been ill—and her English doctor has done 'wonders' for her. Is that the one who went up the peak with Doris?"
"Probably."
"Mrs. Brutt seems full of him. 'A delightful young fellow,' she calls him. 'Young!'" Mrs. Winton scented mischief. She had pictured the doctor in question as a comfortable, middle-aged practitioner, father of a family.