“Don’t cry, Amelia,” said Herbert kindly, pulling nervously at his spiky grey hair. He hated “family ructions.” Very inconsiderate of Doss to start one at his silver wedding. Who could have supposed she had it in her? “You’ll have to take her to a doctor. This may be only a—er—a brainstorm. There are such things as brainstorms nowadays, aren’t there?”
“I—I suggested consulting a doctor to her yesterday,” moaned Mrs. Frederick. “And she said she wouldn’t go to a doctor—wouldn’t. Oh, surely I have had trouble enough!”
“And she won’t take Redfern’s Bitters,” said Cousin Stickles.
“Or anything,” said Mrs. Frederick.
“And she’s determined to go to the Presbyterian church,” said Cousin Stickles—repressing, however, to her credit be it said, the story of the bannister.
“That proves she’s dippy,” growled Uncle Benjamin. “I noticed something strange about her the minute she came in today. I noticed it before today.” (Uncle Benjamin was thinking of “m-i-r-a-z-h.”) “Everything she said today showed an unbalanced mind. That question—‘Was it a vital part?’ Was there any sense at all in that remark? None whatever! There never was anything like that in the Stirlings. It must be from the Wansbarras.”
Poor Mrs. Frederick was too crushed to be indignant.
“I never heard of anything like that in the Wansbarras,” she sobbed.
“Your father was odd enough,” said Uncle Benjamin.
“Poor Pa was—peculiar,” admitted Mrs. Frederick tearfully, “but his mind was never affected.”