"Your voice is that of an oracle, Tab, and I, who am stupid, do not understand."
"She's going to give you a horse."
"Then should you not rather say that I have worked a horse out of my grand-aunt? which is still oracular; wherefore expound, Tab."
"She told me herself. It's my belief she's in love with you. She'd give you her head, if you asked."
"She's given me her heart, which is better. And so have you; and you're both ashamed of it. Why is that, Tabby?"
"Well," replied Tabitha, making no denial, "you see we're not French—thank God! When we were young we were kept down, as was the fashion."
"I do not like that fashion."
"You'd like it less if you knew anything about it. It has to come out some time; that's the reason your songs get into my legs, and——"
"And?" questioningly, for Tabitha had paused.
"Well, your aunt was never in love—never had the chance, 's far's I know; but if she had, it had to be kept down—and now it comes out. Lucky it didn't strike an elder with a raft of children and no money."