The widow drew herself up in magnificent displeasure.
"Woman, indeed."
Thrasher sat down, with his eyes fixed keenly on her.
"What did you mean, Ellen?" he said, more quietly.
"What did I mean? When you can look and talk like a gentleman, perhaps I may admit that there was no meaning at all in what I said, only that girl was dead in love with you, Thrasher, or I don't know what love is."
"We will let her alone, if you please," he answered, with a manner that checked her flippancy. "The poor girl is nothing to us."
"I should hope not," replied the widow, with a disdainful motion of her head. "In my poorest days I was always above that sort of people; and remember, Thrasher, when we are married—if I ever could make up my mind to it, you know—these old neighbors must be kept at a distance."
"Have I not promised? Is it not decided that we go by my Christian name after that?"
"Yes, I remember something was said about it. A good idea. That will be cutting them off root and branch, old folks and all; besides, Mrs. Nelson has a refined sound."
Thrasher sighed heavily.