“All right, thank you; I’ll surely interview—Miss Maggie,” smiled the man in good-bye.
He had almost said “poor” Maggie himself, though why she should be poor Maggie had come to be an all-absorbing question with him. He had been tempted once to ask Miss Flora, but something had held him back. That evening at the supper-table, however, in talking with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell, the question came again to his lips; and this time it found utterance.
Mrs. Jane herself had introduced Miss Maggie’s name, and had said an inconsequential something about her when Mr. Smith asked:—
“Mrs. Blaisdell, please,—may I ask? I must confess to a great curiosity as to why Miss Duff is always ‘poor Maggie.’”
Mrs. Blaisdell laughed pleasantly.
“Why, really, I don’t know,” she answered, “only it just comes natural, that’s all. Poor Maggie’s been so unfortunate. There! I did it again, didn’t I? That only goes to show how we all do it, unconsciously.”
Frank Blaisdell, across the table, gave a sudden emphatic sniff.
“Humph! Well, I guess if you had to live with Father Duff, Jane, it would be ‘poor Jane’ with you, all right!”
“Yes, I know.” His wife sighed complacently.
“Father Duff’s a trial, and no mistake. But Maggie doesn’t seem to mind.”