“And then grumble at it, and say it is not as good as he gets abroad. You never have anything in the garden either!”
“I have some very fine asparagus, my dear Mary.”
“Ah, well, that’s something.”
“And some forced rhubarb.”
“I could use that too. But really it is too bad to take one so by surprise. Men are so unreasonable!”
The Reverend Arthur Rosebury took a turn or two up and down the room, with a troubled look in his face, ending by stopping short before his sister.
“I—I am very sorry, my dear Mary,” he said. “Can I help you a little?”
“What by getting in the way, Arthur?” said the little lady, pettishly. “Nonsense! stuff!”
He smoothed his long, thin, closely-shaven face with one hand, gazing pensively at his sister.
“I—I used to be very fond of Henry Bolter,” he said, in a hesitating way.