"Embroider the whole back."
"Well, yes. I can do that," Miss Lydia assented. "There! there's your tea."
Dr. Lavendar took his tea and stirred it thoughtfully. "Miss Lydia," he said, and looked hard at the tea, "what do you suppose? Mr. William Rives—" Dr. Lavendar stopped and drank some tea. "How many years ago was it that he went away from Old Chester? I don't exactly remember."
"It was thirty-one years ago," she said; she put down her own cup of tea and stared at him. "What were you going to say about him, sir?"
"Well, only," said Dr. Lavendar, scraping the sugar from the bottom of his cup, "only that—"
"There! my goodness! I'll give you another lump," cried Miss Lydia; "don't wear my spoon out. What about him, sir?"
Dr. Lavendar explained that he had come back on the stage from Mercer the night before with a strange gentleman—"stout man," Dr. Lavendar said, "with a black wig. I was rooting about in my pocket-book for a stamp—I wanted to post a letter just as we were leaving Mercer; and this gentleman very politely offered me one. I took it. Then I looked at him, and there was something familiar about him. I asked him if we had not met before, and he told me who he was. He has changed a good deal."
Miss Lydia drank her tea excitedly. "Where is he going to stay? Is he well? Has he come back rich?" She hoped so. William was so industrious, he deserved to be rich. She ran into the smoky front room and brought out his picture, regarding it with affectionate interest. "Did you know I was engaged to him, years ago, Dr. Lavendar? We thought it best to part. But—" She stopped and looked at the picture, and a little color came into her face. But in another moment she was chattering her birdlike questions.
"I declare," Dr. Lavendar said, at last, "you are the youngest person of my acquaintance."
Miss Lydia laughed. "I hope you don't think it's wrong to be young?" she said.