"Oh, I know!" cried Agnes, eagerly. "A woman-hater. A man who hates women."
"Humph!" scoffed Mrs. MacCall, "is there such indeed? And what do they call a man-hater?"
"That, Mrs. MacCall, I cannot tell you," laughed Cecile. "I fear there are no women man-haters—not really. At least there is no distinctive title for them in the dictionary."
"So much the worse for the dictionary, then," said the Scotch woman. "And, of course, that's man-made!"
"It was only the Greeks who were without 'em," put in Ruth, smiling. "The perfectly good, expressive English word 'man-hater' is in the dictionary without a doubt."
"But do go on about Neighbor," Agnes urged. "Does he quarrel with you people all the time?"
"Not with Luke," Cecile explained. "He likes Luke. He is really very fond of him, although it seems positively to hurt him to show love for anybody.
"But a long time ago Mr. Northrup began to show an interest in Luke. He would come to the fence between his and Aunt Lorena's places, and talk with Luke by the hour. But if either I or aunty came near he'd turn right around and walk away.
"He never allows a woman inside his door and hasn't, they say, for twenty years. He has a Japanese servant—the only one that was ever seen in Grantham; and they get along without a woman."
"I'd like tae see intae that hoos," snapped Mrs. MacCall, shaking her head and dropping into her broad Scotch, as she often did when excited. "What could twa' buddies of men do alone at housekeeping!"