"Yes," said William, "I am. Yet I am not as young as I once was."
This drifting away from Miss Lydia disturbed Mrs. Barkley. She lowered her chin and glared at him over her spectacles, saying, in a rumbling bass: "Neither is Lydia; and it's hard for her to be destitute in her old age."
"Just so," Mr. Rives said, eagerly—"exactly. She is not as young as she once was, which, for many reasons, is desirable. But I think she is healthy?"
"Why, yes," Mrs. Barkley admitted; "but I don't know that that makes it easier to be poor."
"But I infer that poverty has taught her economy?" William Rives said.
"Yes; but poverty is a hard teacher."
"But thorough—thorough!" said Mr. Rives; "and some people will learn of no other."
Mrs. Barkley was growing impatient; she gave up marriage and thought of a pension.
"Yes," said William; "she is economical, and has good health, and is fond of old clothes, and is kind-hearted, and doesn't have any wants. Excellent traits—excellent. I have looked very carefully at the items of expense in regard to a housekeeper or nurse."
Mrs. Barkley stared at him in bewilderment. Was he going to offer Lydia a position as housekeeper? She was fairly dizzy with this seesaw of possibilities; and she was perplexed, too, for, after all, badly as Lydia needed assistance, propriety must be considered, and certainly this housekeeping project was of doubtful propriety. "Because you know you are neither of you very old," she explained.