As she turned away she gave a sweet suggestion of the blushing girl for whom Ebenezer had sighed in vain, and I said emphatically, "Yes, indeed, Mr. Yocomb, you may well say 'Poor Ebenezer!' How in the world did he ever survive it?"
"Thee's very sympathetic, Richard."
Miss Warren looked at him threateningly.
I tried to laugh it off, and said, "Even if he had a millstone for a heart, it must have broken at such a loss."
"Oh, don't thee worry. He's a hale and hearty grandfather to-day."
Miss Warren broke into a laugh that set all my nerves tingling. "Yes," she cried, "I thought it would end in that way."
"Why, Emily, bless thee!" said Mrs. Yocomb, running in, "I haven't heard thee laugh so since thee came."
"She's at her old tricks," said her husband; "laughing at Richard and me."
I found her merriment anything but reassuring, and I muttered under my breath: "Perdition on Ebenezer and his speedy comfort! I hope she don't class me with him."
Very soon Mrs. Yocomb appeared again, and said: "Father, thee must take them all out to drive. I can't do anything straight while I hear you all talking and laughing, for my thoughts are with you. I've put salt into one pie already. A Thanksgiving dinner requires one's whole mind."