“Then why do you not attend to it?”
“That’s it,” she answered, looking me uneasily in the face.
“What?”
“Well, sir, to tell you the truth, it’s my opinion, and I know, laugh as you may—”
“I haven’t laughed, Mrs. Scott.”
She arose, looked at her boy, now fast asleep in his cradle, went to the window, drew the little white curtain across the lower half, resumed her chair, glanced about the room, and was opening her lips to speak, when a slight rattling sound against the panes of glass, made her clasp her hands together and utter a cry.
“What on earth was that?”
I did indeed now laugh at her pale face, answering, in some vexation,
“It was the snow breaking from the eaves, and slipping down against the window.”
“Oh!” drawing a long breath. “You are provoked at me, Mr. Redfield. If you knew all, you wouldn’t be.”