“So it is,” replied Sue, unconsciously. “I think that you might congratulate me,” she added, with her hysterical laugh. “You didn’t think that your gold thimble would make pretty things for Dr. Lake’s wife, did you?”
“I congratulate you! I hope that I may congratulate him, in time. Dr. Lake is trying to pour a gallon into a half pint. I hope that one of you will die before you make each other very miserable.”
“You mean thing,” said Sue, almost crying.
“I do not mean to hurt you, Sue, but you are doing something that is wretched beyond words. Don’t you care at all for that poor fellow who loves you?”
“Gerald loves me, too,” she answered proudly. “You are ugly to me, and I haven’t any body that I dare talk to but you. Mary Sherwood says that telling you things is like throwing things into the sea; nobody ever finds them.”
“I must be very full of rubbish.”
“We are going to Washington on our bridal trip; we can’t stay long, for father will not spare Gerald. I shall ask nobody but Dr. Towne and his mother, and Miss Jewett, and you, and Dine. Will you come?” she asked hesitatingly.
“I will come for Dr. Lake’s sake.”
“I got a letter from Stacey this morning. I haven’t opened it yet; it will make me very sad. I wish that I wasn’t so sensitive about things. It’s a dreadful trouble to me. I looked in the glass the first thing this morning expecting that my hair would be all white. I’m dying to show you my things; do come home with me.”
“Sue, do you ever say your prayers?”