Still, there was nothing in that. He did not always walk with Ann to church. He might not come up Oliver's Hill at all. He might come from the opposite direction. He might be in church already. Esther's step quickened. But she had no excuse for hurry. Unless one sang in the choir or were threatened with lateness it was not etiquette to push ahead of any one on Oliver's Hill. Decently and in order was the motto, so Esther was sharply reminded when she had almost trodden on the unhastening heels of Mrs. Elder MacTavish.
Mrs. MacTavish turned in surprise but, seeing Esther, relaxed into the usual Sunday smile and bow.
"Good morning, Esther. Good morning, Mrs. Coombe. Good morning, Jane.
What perfect weather we are having. You are all well, I hope?"
"Very well, thank you."
"And dear Miss Amy?"
"Very well indeed."
"So sad that she never cares to come to church. But of course one understands. And it must be a satisfaction to you all that she keeps so well. I said to Mr. MacTavish only last night that I felt sure Dr. Callandar was not being called in professionally. That is the worst of being a doctor. One can hardly attend to one's social duties without arousing fear for the health of one's friends. Not that Dr. Callandar is overly sociable, usually."
The last word, delivered as if by an afterthought, said everything which she wished it to say. Esther's lips shut tightly. Mary Coombe flushed. But she was quick to seize the opening nevertheless.
"Such an odd thing, dear Mrs. MacTavish! Dr. Callandar turns out to be quite an old friend of—of my family. We knew each other as boy and girl. In his college days, you know."
"How very pleasant. But I always understood your family lived in
Cleveland. Did Dr. Callandar take his degree in the States?"