"That Mrs. Tod is an extraordinary woman. I repeat it—a most extraordinary woman."
And leaning his elbows on the table, from which the said extraordinary woman had just removed breakfast, John looked over to me with his own merry brown eyes.
"Wherefore, David?"
"She has a house full of children, yet manages to keep it quiet and her own temper likewise. Astonishing patience! However people attain it who have to do with brats, I can't imagine."
"John! that's mean hypocrisy. I saw you myself half-an-hour ago holding the eldest Tod boy on a refractory donkey, and laughing till you could hardly stand."
"Did I?" said he, half-ashamed. "Well, it was only to keep the little scamp from making a noise under the windows. And that reminds me of another remarkable virtue in Mrs. Tod—she can hold her tongue."
"How so?"
"In two whole days she has not communicated to us a single fact concerning our neighbours on the other half of Rose Cottage."
"Did you want to know?"
John laughingly denied; then allowed that he always had a certain pleasure in eliciting information on men and things.