"Thee was clear-headed enough to get around mother in half an hour," said the old gentleman again, laughing heartily. "It took me several months."
"Thee was a little blind, father. I wasn't going to let thee see how much I thought of thee till I had kept thee waiting a proper time."
"That's rich!" I cried, and I laughed as I had not since my illness. "How long is a proper time, Mrs. Yocomb? I remember being once told that a woman was a mystery that a man could never solve. I fear it's true."
"Who told you that?" asked Mr. Hearn; for I think he noticed my swift glance at Miss Warren, who looked a little conscious.
"As I think of it, I may have read it in a newspaper," I said demurely.
"I'm not flattered by your poor memory, Mr. Morton," remarked Miss Warren quietly. "I told you that myself when you were so mystified by my fearlessness of Dapple and my fear of the cow."
"I've learned that my memory is sadly treacherous, Miss Warren."
"A man who is treacherous only in memory may well be taken as a model," remarked Mr. Hearn benignly.
"Would you say that of one who forgot to pay you his debts?"
"What do you owe me, Mr. Morton?"