He wheeled about sharply.
"Why do you always come in like a cat? Do you think those people will come to-day? It's raining cats and dogs."
"Certainly; they always come, and they have their carriages—"
"That's just it. They're getting so damned high-toned that they'll soon feel independent of me. But I'll turn them out, bag and baggage."
"They treat you exactly as they have treated you for thirty years and more, brother."
"Do you think so? Do you think they'll come to-day?"
"I am sure they will, Hiram."
He looked her up and down, then said, with a startling note of tenderness in his ill-used voice:
"You ought to have a new frock, Marian. That is looking old."
Had not Dr. Webster been wholly deficient in humor he would have smiled at his sister's expression of terrified surprise. She ran forward and laid her hand on his shoulder.