"Agatha!" quavered Miss Finch, and flushed a painful purple.
"Well, he certainly isn't coming to see me, and I find it hard to believe that Phemie is the magnet. He doesn't know Mr. Forbes and Howard is a trifle young to attract him. Please see what he wants, Fritz."
"I—I'd rather not, Agatha."
"Why, Fritz, what ails you? You can see for yourself that I'm in no condition to interview Mr. Doolittle. His modesty would never survive the shock. Send him away as soon as you can. It won't do to have all the busybodies of the neighborhood dropping in whenever they feel like it."
Reluctantly Miss Finch departed on her inhospitable mission. But it seemed that Agatha had done Mr. Doolittle an injustice. He had come on an entirely altruistic errand.
"There was a telegram at the office for Aggie's boarder, and I offered to bring it out, being as I was driving by."
"A telegram for Mr. Forbes!" fluttered Miss Finch, forgetting her shyness in sympathetic concern. "I hope there's no more trouble in store for that poor young man."
"Wal, the Bible says to him that hath shall be given, and I've noticed that's likely to come true, as far as trouble's concerned. How's the poor feller getting on? I had a little talk with him one day, and I made up my mind he warn't the June-bug sort of crazy, just the glum, hold-your-tongue kind."
"I guess Mr. Forbes' brains would hold their own alongside yours or mine!" Miss Finch spoke with some heat and realized her mistake in time to add, "Though of course he thinks a lot of things that aren't so." It soothed her conscience to realize the absolute truth of her closing statement.