"No," Dolly answered. "I haven't spirit enough. My only spirit is in a lamp; I have been making flaxseed tea and hot lemonade for Ruth, who has a cold."
"Does she swallow your messes?" Etheridge asked.
"Never. But I like to fuss over them, and measure them out, and stir them up!"
"Just as I do for Evangeline Taylor," remarked Mrs. Kip, affectionately.
"Lilian, isn't Evangeline long enough without that Taylor?" Dolly suggested. "I have always meant to ask you."
"I do it as a remembrance of her father," replied Lilian, with solemnity "For I myself am a Taylor no longer; I am a Kip."
"Oh, is that it? And if you should marry again, what then could you do (as there is no second Evangeline) for your present name?" Dolly inquired, gravely.
"I have thought of that," answered the widow. "And I have decided that I shall keep it. It shall precede any new name I may take; I should make it a condition."
"You are warned, gentlemen," commented Dolly.
Etheridge for an instant looked alarmed. Then, as he saw that Malachi had reddened violently, he grew savage. "Kip-Hill? Kip-Larue? Kip-Willoughby?" he repeated, as if trying them. "Walter Willoughby, however, is very poor dependence for you, Mrs. Lilian; for he is evidently here in the train of the Barclays. He arrived with them yesterday, and he tells me he is going up the Ocklawaha; I happen to know that the Barclays are taking that trip, also."