Miss Vesta looked distressed.
"Aunt Marcia," she said, gently, "I cannot feel as if I ought to let even you speak slightingly of Doctor Stedman. Of course we all feel deeply the loss of dear Geoffrey; I am sure no one can feel it more deeply than Phœbe and I do. The house is so empty without him; he kept it full of sunshine and joy. But that should not make us forgetful of Doctor Stedman's life-long devotion and—"
"Speaking of devotion," said Mrs. Tree, "has he asked you to marry him yet? How many times does that make?"
Miss Vesta went very pink, and rose from her seat with a gentle dignity which was her nearest approach to anger.
"I think I will leave you now, Aunt Marcia," she said. "I will come again to-morrow, when you are more composed. Good-by."
"Yes, run along!" said Mrs. Tree, and her voice softened a little. "I don't want you to-day, Vesta, that's the truth. Send me Phœbe, or Malvina Weight. I want something to 'chaw on,' as Direxia said just now."
"The dogs! I was going to say," exclaimed Direxia, using one of her strongest expressions. "You never heard me, now, Mis' Tree!"
"I never hear anything else!" said the old lady. "Go away, both of you, and let me hear myself think."