“Indeed I have every reason to believe that he was,” insisted the other; “the father was an eccentric doctor who practised in Canterbury, and the mother of Louisa and Baldwin died in a lunatic asylum.”
Mrs. Fuller nodded sadly. “Yes, Louisa told me as much,” she said, “and for that reason I excused her oddities and those of her brother. They certainly had queer ways, hadn’t they, John?”
“Yes! yes! yes! But no worse than other people,” rejoined Fuller senior, in his vigorous fashion, “but Louisa certainly manages her boarding-house in a sane enough manner, as I found when I stayed there.”
“Did you stay there, father?” asked Alan.
“Twice or thrice when I went to town years and years ago, although I have not stayed there lately. I wanted to help Louisa, poor soul. But now she is doing so well that there is no need for me to assist her by becoming a few days’ boarder. Baldwin may have been a trifle mad,” added the vicar, addressing Sorley, “since he sank so low and displayed such weakness; but his sister is sane enough, I am sure of that.”
“She did not speak very sanely the other day when attacking me, as Alan heard,” said Mr. Sorley significantly. “We were quietly having afternoon tea when Miss Grison rose and suddenly denounced me. She is mad.”
“I don’t agree with you,” retorted the vicar.
“What do you say, Alan?”
The young man shook his head with an embarrassed laugh. “I have not seen sufficient of Miss Grison to pronounce an opinion,” he said, and turned to Marie, who was feeling rather neglected. “This is rather dull for you.”
“And the subject, as I said before, is not a suitable one for Christmas Day,” observed Mr. Fuller. “Marie, my dear, give us some music.”