Mr. Newt stopped in his walk, smiled contemptuously, and pointed to his wife, who sat with her handkerchief over her eyes.
“Pooh!” said Mrs. Dagon, “I knew ‘twould come to this. I’ve seen her hugging him the whole winter, and so has every body else who has eyes.”
And she shook her plumage as she settled into a seat.
“Mrs. Boniface Newt is unfortunately blind; that is to say, she sees every body’s affairs but her own,” said Mr. Newt, tauntingly.
Mrs. Dagon, without heeding him, talked on.
“But why did they run away to be married? What does it mean? Fanny’s not romantic, and Dinks is a fool. He’s rich, and a proper match enough, for a woman can’t expect to have every thing. I can’t see why he didn’t propose regularly, and behave like other people. Do you suppose he was actually engaged to his cousin Hope Wayne, and that our darling Fanny has outwitted the Boston beauty, and the Boston beau too, for that matter? It looks like it, really. I think that must be it. It’s a pity a Newt should marry a fool—”
“It is not the first time,” interrupted her nephew, making a low bow to his wife.
Mrs. Dagon looked a little surprised. She had seen little jars and rubs before in the family, but this morning she seemed to have happened in upon an earthquake. She continued:
“But we must make the best of it. Are they in the house?”
“No, Aunt Dagon,” said Mr. Newt. “I knew nothing of it until, half an hour ago, I read it in the paper with all the rest of the world. It seems it was a family secret.” And he bowed again to his wife,