His adoring aunt, finding no fault whatever with this well-loved nephew, lavished upon him the affection of her unused motherhood, and he seemed to find it a patent joke, open to everyone, that she should be so fond.
To this and, indeed, to his general walk and conversation, Mrs. Pettigrew took great exception.
"Fine boy—Rella's nephew!" she said to Dr. Bellair late one night when, seeing a light over her neighbor's transom, she dropped in for a little chat. Conversation seemed easier for her here than in the atmosphere of Bainville.
"Fine boy—eh? Nice complexion!"
Dr. Bellair was reading a heavy-weight book by a heavier-weight specialist. She laid it down, took off her eyeglasses, and rubbed them.
"Better not kiss him," she said.
"I thought as much!" said Grandma. "I thought as much! Huh!"
"Nice world, isn't it?" the doctor suggested genially.