"Yes."
"So I thought, near's I could tell. Folks been awful mum 'bout the whole thing. I s'pose 'twas kind of odd, wa'n't it?"
"Perhaps."
"Yes, I guess 'twas," was the response, "'cause I asked Caro one day if 'twas odd. She said 'twasn't odd, 'twas natural; but I didn't believe her, all the same. Been sick much?"
"I'm not sick."
"You don't look right, somehow. Let's go down to the house. Folks'll be awful glad to see you. Come on."
"I don't think I'll go now."
"Why not? I say, ain't it funny that the Britisher's there again this summer?"
"Is he?"
"Yes. Comes a lot. Sparkin' sis, I s'pose. Sparkin' Prue last summer, you know,—wife takin' sulphur somewhere. Wife dead now. I say, is Prue's much of a brick's ever."