"Oh, yes; no one could be unfriendly with her—that is, she's an inoffensive, good-hearted old woman. But—well, we see very little of her; she's not a blood-relative, you know."
"But surely, if you are not at daggers' points with her, you would send your father's widow an announcement of your wedding!"
"But—we don't think very much of her, Margaret; we're not, just to say, intimate with her."
"You say, though, that she is 'inoffensive and good-hearted,' and she was your father's wife?" repeated Margaret, looking mystified.
"Oh, well," Daniel gave in, "I'll add her name if you think I—I ought to. She'll be so pleased; she'll tell it all over the township! I mean"—he pulled himself up—"well, you see, she's old and no use to any one and I'm afraid she's going to be, after a while, something of a burden to us all."
Margaret remained silent, as Daniel took a pencil from his vest-pocket and scribbled at the end of his wedding list.
"There," he said, handing the paper back to her. "Anything to please you, my dear!"
"Daniel?"
"Well, dearest?"
"I don't like the way you speak of that old lady."