"What's the matter with Emanuel Prockter," said he, "is as he's probably gotten a cold by this."
"Yes, and you're glad!" Helen retorted. "You think he looked a fool after he'd been in the water. And you were glad."
"I dunna think," said James, "I'm sure."
"But why should you be glad? That's what I want to know."
James could not sagaciously reply to this query. He merely scratched his head, tilting one of his Turkish caps to that end.
"The fact is," she cried, with a grammatical carelessness which was shocking in a woman who had professed to teach everything, "every one has got their knives into Emanuel Prockter. And it's simply because he's good-looking and well-dressed and sings beautifully."
"Good-looking!" murmured James.
"Well, isn't he?"
"He's pretty," said James.
"No one ever said he had a lot of brains—"