Mr. Atwater sighed. "Why, she explains in her letter that she only knew it, herself, an hour before she wrote."
"Her poor father!" his wife repeated commiseratingly.
"Why, Mollie, I don't see how father's especially to be pitied."
"Don't you?" said Mrs. Atwater. "That old man, to have to live in that big house all alone, except a few negro servants?"
"Why, no! About half the houses in the neighbourhood, up and down the street, are fully occupied by close relatives of his: I doubt if he'll be really as lonely as he'd like to be. And he's often said he'd give a great deal if Julia had been a plain, unpopular girl. I'm strongly of the opinion, myself, that he'll be pleased about this. Of course it may upset him a little at first."
"Yes; I think it will!" Mrs. Atwater shook her head forebodingly. "And he isn't the only one it's going to upset."
"No, he isn't," her husband admitted seriously. "That's always been the trouble with Julia; she never could bear to seem disappointing; and so, of course, I suppose every one of 'em has a special idea that he's really about the top of the list with her."
"Every last one of 'em is positive of it," said Mrs. Atwater. "That was Julia's way with 'em!"
"Yes, Julia's always been much too kind-hearted for other people's good." Thus Mr. Atwater summed up Julia; and he was her brother. Additionally, since he was the older, he had known her since her birth.
"If you ask me," said his wife, "I'll really be surprised if it all goes through without a suicide."