"Mrs. Burton is a fine-looking woman," he said.
"Fine looking!" repeated Sally with a contemptuous sniff. "I don't admire your taste."
"She isn't in your style, Sally," said Aaron, with a sly twinkle in his eye.
Sally Wolverton was taller than her brother, with harsh features, a gaunt, angular figure, and an acid expression.
"I hope not," she answered. "I hope I don't look like an insipid doll."
"You certainly don't, Sally; you have expression enough, I am sure."
"Do you think Mrs. Burton pretty?" asked Sally, suspiciously.
"Oh, so so!" answered Aaron, guardedly; for he did not care to reveal the secret to his sister at present. She was useful to him as a housekeeper, and moreover (an important point) she was very economical; more so than any person whom he could hire. He did indeed pay his sister, but only a dollar a week, and out of this she saved nearly one half, having the gift of economy in quite as large a measure as himself.
This assurance, and her brother's indifferent tone, relieved Sally from her momentary suspicion. Yet, had she been able to read her brother's secret thoughts, she would have been a prey to anxiety. He had made up his mind, if ever he did marry Mrs. Burton, to give Sally her walking-ticket.
"I can't afford to support two women," he reflected, "and my wife ought to be able to do all the work in so small a household."