John was in his arm-chair reading the Daily Bulletin. He was perfectly aware of the late overthrow of his domestic authority by Dolly; not that it was by any means the first instance of the kind, but the others had been known to no third party. He trusted for the perpetuity of the declaration of domestic independence which he had lately set up, to its being made publicly before the servants. Mistaken man! Dolly's pride lay in a different direction. Well, it was all over now; he only wondered in his cool moments how he had ever been so mad as to attempt to make Rose more comfortable; but let no man ever say what he will or will not do till he has seen a pretty woman in tears.
Still, John had a rod in pickle for Dolly; his publicly-wounded pride must have some satisfaction. He saw by the gleam of her eye, as she sat down to Moses, that she was that morning particularly deficient in his "meekness." It was a good chance. John cleared his throat, preparatory to improving it.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mrs. Howe," said he, laying down his newspaper, as if a sudden thought had struck him, "Finels asked me the other day who Rose was?"
"Finels! Finels!" screamed Mrs. Howe, sticking her needle vigorously into Moses, "how came Finels to see Rose?"
John's eyes gleamed. "When I waited upon him to the door the other day, Rose was just passing through the entry, with a pitcher of water."
"Just like her, and I told her expressly to go down the back stairs."
"But the carpenter was fixing the back stairs, that day," said John, "she couldn't pass, I suppose."
"I don't suppose any such thing," said Mrs. Howe, "she did it on purpose; I know she did. Well, what did Finels say of her?"
"He said she had the loveliest eyes he ever saw, and that her face was without a flaw."
"What o'clock is it?" asked Mrs. Howe, in a husky voice.