"Oh, no; only isn't she crowding the mourners a little? Isn't she rather regular?"
"I asked her," Mrs. Symes replied uneasily.
"It's all right; I'm not complaining—only why don't you ask some one else occasionally?"
"I don't want them," she answered bluntly.
"The best of reasons, my dear," and Symes turned away to complete his own toilet while Augusta hastened out of the room to greet the Doctor.
Symes wondered if the installation of a meal ticket system at the Terriberry House had anything to do with the frequency with which he found Dr. Harpe at his table, and was immediately ashamed of himself for the thought. It recalled, however, an incident which had amused him, though it had since slipped his mind. He had found a pie in his writing desk and had asked Grandma Kunkel, who still formed a part of his unique ménage, for an explanation.
"I'm hidin' it," she had answered shortly.
"From whom?"
"Dr. Harpe. I have to do it if I want anything for the next meal. She helps herself. She's got an awful appetite."
He had laughed at the time at her injured tone and angry eyes and he smiled now at the recollection. It was obvious that she did not like Dr. Harpe, and he was not sure, he could not exactly say, that he liked her himself, or rather, he did not entirely like this sudden and violent intimacy between her and Augusta, which brought her so constantly to the house. Some time he meant to ask Grandmother Kunkel why she so resented Dr. Harpe's presence.