“Well, my wife’s a woman,” Cyrus began, “and they’re keener on such matters than men; and she said, perhaps you would—would—”
“What?” Dr. Lavendar rapped on the table with the bowl of his pipe, so loudly that Danny opened one eye. “Would what?”
“Well,” Cyrus stammered, “you know, Dr. Lavendar, as Gussie says, ‘there’s no fo—’”
“You needn’t finish it,” Dr. Lavendar interrupted, dryly; “I’ve heard it before. Gussie didn’t say anything about a young fool, did she?” Then he eyed Cyrus. “Or a middle-aged one? I’ve seen middle-aged fools that could beat us old fellows hollow.”
“Oh, but Mrs. North is far beyond middle age,” said Cyrus, earnestly.
Dr. Lavendar shook his head. “Well, well!” he said. “To think that Alfred Price should have such a— And yet he is as sensible a man as I know!”
“Until now,” Cyrus amended. “But Gussie thought you’d better caution him. We don’t want him, at his time of life, to make a mistake.”
“It’s much more to the point that I should caution you not to make a mistake,” said Dr. Lavendar; and then he rapped on the table again, sharply. “The Captain has no such idea—unless Gussie has given it to him. Cyrus, my advice to you is to go home and tell your wife not to be a goose. I’ll tell her, if you want me to?”
“Oh no, no!” said Cyrus, very much frightened. “I’m afraid you’d hurt her feelings.”
“I’m afraid I should,” said Dr. Lavendar, grimly.