"Well, girls do act awful strange these days."
Mrs. Weaver took warning from her daughter's tone and divided her disapproval by multiplying its denominator.
"Yes, they do. They act sometimes as if they had a little sense," retorted Ethel huskily.
"Well, I don't know as I call it sense to pick up and run after a man, even if you're engaged to him; do you, mother?"
Old Mrs. Moxom started nervously at her daughter-in-law's appeal.
"Well, it does seem a long way to go on—on an uncertainty, Ethel," she faltered.
The girl turned a flushed, indignant face upon her grandmother.
"Well, I hope you don't mean to call Rob an uncertainty?" she demanded angrily.
"Oh, no; I don't mean that," pleaded the old woman. "I haven't got anything agen' Rob. I don't suppose he's any more uncertain than—than the rest of them. I"—
"Why, grandmother Moxom," interrupted the girl, "how you talk! I'm sure father isn't an uncertainty, and there wasn't anything uncertain about grandfather Moxom. To tell the honest truth, I think they're just about as certain as we are."