"I don't know, Aunt."
"There, you see! She doesn't know! That's what happens along of all these Sunday Schools. In my day I'd be spanked and sent to bed if I didn't know every last thing about the tribes."
"Ann and I will go and look it up," said the doctor hastily, hoping to escape; "it will be good discipline for both of us."
"Land sakes! I'm not blaming you, Doctor. Naturally you haven't got your mind on texts, and I don't blame you about the other thing either. Men are awful easy taken in. My Aunt Susan used to say that the cleverer a man was the more he didn't understand a woman. Dr. Coombe was what you'd call clever, too, but it didn't help him any. Mind you, I'm not criticising, far from it, but I suppose a person may wonder what a man's eyes are for, without offence. No one knows better than you, Doctor, that I'm not an interfering woman and I'd never dream of saying a word against Mary Coombe to the face of her intended husband, but if I did say anything it would have to be the truth and the truth is that a more thorough-paced bit of uselessness I never saw."
"Mrs. Sykes," the doctor's voice was dangerously quiet, "am I to understand that you are tired of your boarder?"
Mrs. Sykes jumped.
"Land, Doctor, don't get ruffled! I'm real sorry if I've hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to say a word when I set out. My tongue just runs away. And naturally you have to stand up for Mrs. Coombe. I see that. That'll be the last you'll hear from me and 'tisn't as if I'd ever turn around and say 'I told you so' afterwards."
This was amende honorable and the doctor received it as such; but when he had gone into his office leaving his breakfast almost untouched, Mrs. Sykes shook her head gloomily.
"You needn't tell me!" she murmured, oblivious of the fact that no one was telling her anything. "You needn't tell me!" Then, with rare self-reproach, "Perhaps I hadn't ought to have said so much, but such blindness is enough to provoke a saint. If he'd any eyes—couldn't he see Esther?" Mrs. Sykes sighed as she emptied the doctor's untasted cup.
More frankly disconsolate, though not so outspoken, were Ann and Bubble. Not only did they dislike the bride elect but they objected to marriage in general. "A honeymoon will put the kibosh on this here practice, sure," moaned Bubble.