“Oh, laws, no!—he'll be home to-morrow, but he won't go.”
“Home to-morrow!” I exclaimed. “I thought he wasn't to come till Wednesday.”
Mrs. Bowser looked a little uncomfortable.
“I guess he's old enough to come and go when he likes,” she said. But her flow of words seemed to desert her.
“Very true,” I admitted. “I wonder what's bringing him back in such a hurry.”
Mrs. Bowser's beady eyes turned on me in doubt, and for a moment she was dumb. Then she followed this miracle by another, and spoke in a low tone of voice.
“It's not for me to say anything against a man in his own house, but I don't like to talk of Doddridge Knapp.”
“What's the matter?” I asked. “A little rough in his speech? Oh, Mrs. Bowser, you should make allowances for a man who has had to fight his way in the roughest business life in the world, and not expect too much of his polish.”
“Oh, laws, he's polite enough,” whispered Mrs. Bowser. “It ain't that—oh, I don't see how she ever married him.”
I followed the glance that Mrs. Bowser gave on interrupting herself with this declaration, and saw Mrs. Knapp approaching us.