"Tell me about her. What does she think about?"
It had never occurred to Edith to conjecture what Mrs. Dobbs thought about. You did not connect Mrs. Dobbs with the idea of thought.
"She is very fond of dogs," said Edith.
"I saw them too, curled and brushed. I expect she blacks the ends of their noses like horses' hoofs. I don't call them dogs. But what does she think about if she lies awake at night? What you think about lying awake is what you really think about. Perhaps she doesn't lie awake. We'll leave her. I don't seem to be interested in her. Who lives there?"
"Mr. Holroyd."
"Whom Aunt Julia said was coming to dinner to-night? She called him Edward—dear Edward, I think—and I am sure she was going to tell me something about him when the old man—Lind, isn't it?—came in to say Mrs. Williams was waiting. So I came out here. Tell me about Edward. Is he a relation? Shall I call him Edward?"
Elizabeth gave one glance at Edith's face, stopped suddenly, and clapped her hands.
"I guess, I guess!" she said. "He isn't a relation, but he is going to be. Edith, my dear, how exciting! I want to hear all about him instantly."
She stopped again.
"I think he must have come out of his front gate in rather a hurry at nine o'clock," she said. "Is he rather tall and clean-shaven, with the look that some people have as if he had washed twice at least that morning? Also, he was whistling Schumann's first Novelette, very loud and quite out of tune. I thought that was rather nice of him, and I whistled too, out of my bedroom window. I had to; I couldn't help it. Of course I didn't let him see me, and he stopped and looked up at the sky to see where it came from. My dear, tell me all about Edward instantly."