“Well then, Barbara Brodie is a good specimen of a capable Norse woman and I have noticed one thing about them, that I feel ought to be better understood.”
“Chut! What hast thou understood? Talk about it, and let thy wisdom be known.”
“Well then, it is this thing––Norse women always outlive their husbands. Thou may count by tens and hundreds the widows in this town. The ‘maidens of blushing fifteen’ have no opportunities; the widow of fifty asks a young man into her beautiful home and makes him acquainted with the burden of her rents and dividends and 90 her share in half a dozen trading boats, and he takes to the golden lure and marries himself like the rest of the world. Thou would have been re-married long ago but for my protection. I have had a very disagreeable day and–––”
“Then go to thy bed and put an end to it.”
“My new dress is crushed and some way or other I have got a spot on the front breadth. Is it that Darwin book thou art looking for?”
“Yes.”
“Would thou like to read a chapter to me?”
“No, I would not.”
“Grandfather, I can understand it. I like clever men. Can thou introduce me to him––to Darwin?”
“He would not care to see thee. Clever men do not want clever wives; so if thou art thinking of a clever husband keep thy ‘blue stockings’ well under thy petticoats.”