‘Yes, I did,’ agreed she. ‘I was longing for someone to open the door.’
‘Mrs. F. d’ say,’ cried Isaac, turning to his nephew with an explanatory bawl, which was intended to stimulate him to further efforts at conversation—‘Mrs. F. d’ say, Richard, as she found it oncommon warm in church.’
Richard’s eyes travelled slowly from the carpet to his uncle’s face, where they rested; for the life of him he could not muster courage to move them to the blooming face on the other side.
‘Oh,’ he commented faintly, ‘did she?’
‘’Ees,’ said Isaac emphatically; ‘do ’ee ax her—’ Here he jerked his thumb significantly in Rosalie’s direction. ‘She d’ say as she was a-wishin’ as somebody ’ud open the door—did n’t ’ee, my dear?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Rosalie.
‘Ah, she’ll tell ’ee about that, Richard,’ went on Isaac; and his enormous boot came slowly sliding across the floor till it reached Richard’s foot, which it proceeded to kick in an admonitory fashion. ‘Jist ax her about that—If ye’d ha’ known she was wantin’ the door open you’d ha’ opened it fast enough for Mrs. F., would n’t ’ee, Richard?’
‘Certainly,’ responded Marshall, with his eyes still glued on his uncle’s face.
‘Ah, you can jist talk about that,’ hinted the latter, as he proceeded to search in his pocket for his pipe.
A dead silence ensued. Isaac looked from one to the other, and the perspiration stood upon his brow. His strenuous efforts had exhausted him, but the desired consummation seemed just as far off as ever.