Not more intently did he eye and read that fair river; not more swiftly did his thoughts pass from the Mong to things beyond human ken; than Mrs. Derrick eyed and read—his back, and suffered her ideas to roam into the far off regions of speculation. The light summer coat, the straw hat, were nothing uncommon; but the silk umbrella was too good for the coat—the gloves and boots altogether extravagant!
"He ain't a bit like the Pattaquasset folks, Faith," she said, in a whisper thrown over her shoulder to her daughter.
"Mother—"
Mrs. Derrick replied by an inarticulate sound of interrogation.
"I wish you wouldn't stand just there. Do come away!"
"La, child," said Mrs. Derrick, moving back about half an inch, "he's looking off into space."
"But he'll be in.—"
"Not till somebody goes to the door," said Mrs. Derrick, "and there's not a living soul in the house but us two."
"Why didn't you say so before? Must I go, mother?"
"He didn't seem in a hurry," said her mother,—"and I wasn't. Yes, you can go if you like, child—and if you don't like, I'll go."