Mr. Quigg, who had an astonishing memory for dates and conditions of the weather, replied, after a second's reflection:
"It is a much finer day, Mrs. Frump. It rained last New Year's. Perhaps you may remember my leaving an umbrella at the house where you were then stopping, in Sixteenth street, and my calling for it again, on which occasion you said I reminded you of Paul Pry, in the play, who was always forgetting his umbrella."
The widow laughed, and said that she distinctly remembered the circumstances.
Mr. Quigg, thus encouraged, went on:
"New Year's days differ very much. The one before the last was very snowy in the forenoon, with hail in the afternoon; and the one before that was so mild, that I found an overcoat really uncomfortable. The one before--"
"Excuse me for the interruption," said Mrs. Frump, suddenly, "but I can't help saying how much Mr. Maltboy looks like Dr. Warts. Doesn't he, Clemmy?"
"Like Dr. Warts!" exclaimed Miss Whedell. "Who's he?"
"Why, don't you remember, Clemmy, the doctor that you consulted about your hair?" The widow looked the picture of guilelessness as she asked the question.
Miss Whedell turned slightly red in parts of her face that were not red before, and involuntarily raised her hands to two heavy braids of hair which fronted each ear, and adjusted them. Then she said, sarcastically:
"Mr. Maltboy must feel much flattered at being compared with a notorious quack."