“I didn’t know there was anything the matter with Oliver.”
“There isn’t anything the matter with him,” said Mrs. Sage, “that a good, stiff drink of whiskey won’t cure.” Then catching the look in the other woman’s eye, she explained: “Oh, I’m not a native, you know. I come from Chicago—God bless it!”
“Ahem!” coughed her husband. “I suppose Sister Grimes will be down in a few minutes, Joseph?”
“Just depends,” replied Mr. Sikes, somewhat grimly.
“Wonderful woman, indeed. Quite indispensable at a time like this,” continued the minister.
“She’s just as handy at a funeral,” supplemented Mr. Link, in the hushed voice of an undertaker.
“We must remember how indispensable Mrs. Grimes is at a time like this, Herbert,” said Mrs. Sage, with a yawn.
“You won’t have to remember,” blurted out Mr. Sikes. “Serepty’ll do the remembering.”
“I adore babies, don’t you, Mrs. Gooch?”
“Yes, indeed. Ah—I—how many children have you, Mrs. Sage?”