Much to her surprise, Mrs. Dodd paled and left the room hastily. Uncle Israel tottered after her, leaving his predigested food untouched on his plate and his imitation coffee steaming malodorously in his cup. Mr. Perkins bowed his head upon his hands for a moment; then, with a sigh, lightly dropped out of the open window. The name of Uncle Ebeneezer seemed to be one to conjure with.
“Dorothy,” said Harlan, “might an obedient husband modestly inquire what you have done?”
“Elaine and I found Uncle Ebeneezer’s diary to-day,” explained Dorothy, “and the poor old soul was nagged all his life by relatives. So, in gratitude for what he’s done for us, I’ve turned ’em out. I know he’d like to have me do it.”
Harlan left his place and came to Dorothy, where, bending over her chair, he kissed her tenderly. “Good girl,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Why in thunder didn’t you do it months ago?”
“Isn’t that just like a man?” asked Dorothy, gazing after his retreating figure.
“I don’t know,” answered Elaine, with a pretty blush, “but I guess it is.”