"Not important, I fancy. Rumor is silent touching her. In fact I 've never heard anything of her. But this Cecilia is no end handsome and proud. Poor old Wiggy!"
I was already ashamed of myself for having encouraged Jewett to discuss Wiggins's affairs, and was about to leave him, when he snorted, in a disagreeable way he had, at some joke that had occurred to him, and he continued chuckling to himself to attract my attention. My frown did not dismay him.
He continued chuckling to himself to attract my attention.
"I knew there was something," he was saying, "about Miss Cecilia's younger sister, and I've just recalled it. The girl has a most extraordinary name, quite the most remarkable you ever heard."
He laughed until he was purple in the face. I did not imagine that any name known to feminine nomenclature could be so humorous.
"Hezekiah! Bang! That's the little sister's name. Bassford Hollister had been saving that name for a son, who never appeared, to do honor to old Hezekiah, the perambulator-chap. So they named the girl for her grand-dad. Bang! One of the apostles, Hezekiah!"
I waited for his mirth to wear itself out, and then rose, to terminate the interview with an adequate dramatic dismissal.
"You poor pagan," I remarked, with such irony as I could command; "it's too bad you insist on revealing the abysmal depths of your ignorance: Hezekiah was not an apostle, but a mighty king before the day of apostles."