'When are you all coming to see me?' he asked, as he stood smoothing his felt hat with the back of his hand. 'I suppose I shall have to give a croquet party, and have some of the young fellows, then you'll come fast enough. Old men like myself you care nothing about.'
'I should think not, indeed,' replied Barbara the plain. 'Why, your hair's going grey. If you didn't shave, you'd have had grey whiskers long ago.'
'When I invite the others,' he returned, laughing, 'you may consider yourself excepted.'
Amid delicate banter of this kind he took his departure. Of course he was instantly the subject of clamorous chatter.
'Will he really give a croquet party?' demanded one, eagerly.
'Not he!' was the reply from another. 'It would cost him too much in tea and cakes.'
'Nonsense!' put in Mrs. Cartwright. 'He doesn't care for society, that's what it is. I believe he's a good deal happier living there by himself than he was when his wife was alive.'
'That isn't very wonderful,' exclaimed Amy. 'A proud, stuck-up thing, she was! Served him right if she made him uncomfortable; he only married her because her people were grand.'
'I don't believe they ever go near him now,' said the mother.
'What did they quarrel about, mother?' asked Jessie. 'I believe he used his wife badly, that's the truth of it.'