CHAPTER VII
HEPSEY GOES A-FISHING
Mrs. Burke seemed incapable of sitting still, with folded hands, for any length of time; and when the stress of her attention to household work, and her devotion to neighborly good deeds relaxed, she turned to knitting wash-rags as a sportsman turns to his gun, or a toper to his cups. She seemed to find more stimulus for thought and more helpful diversion in the production of one wash-rag than most persons find in a trip abroad.
One day, not very long after the eventful missionary 86 tea, she was sitting in her garden, and knitting more rapidly than usual, as she said to Maxwell:
“What’s been the matter with you these last few weeks? You’ve been lookin’ altogether too sober, and you don’t eat nothin’ to speak of. It must be either liver, or conscience, or heart.”
Secretly, she strongly suspected a cardiac affection, of the romantic variety. She intended to investigate.
Donald laughed as he replied: