"Where's the girl?"
"On the way to her field of labor."
"How is she getting there?"
"In our buggy."
"You haven't let her drive out alone?"
"My son, why should you charge me with both cruelty and folly?"
"Who took her out?"
"One, my dear boy, who I little thought would ever be more attentive to the widow's needs than her own son: Cornelius Leggett." Mrs. March never smiled her triumphs. Her lips only writhed under a pleasant pain.
"Well, I'll be——"
"Oh!"