"I do not believe she knows how to do anything wrong."
"Now do set up a discourse in praise of virtue! What if she don't?
That's nothing to the purpose. I want Tom to go into political life."
"A virtuous wife wouldn't hurt him there."
"And an ignorant, country-bred, untrained woman wouldn't help him, would she?"
"Tom will never want help in political life, for he will never go into it. Well, I have said my say, and resign myself to Appledore for two weeks longer. Only, mind you, I question if Tom will ever get anything as good again in the shape of a wife, as you are keeping him from now. It is something of a responsibility to play Providence."
The situation therefore remained unchanged for several days more. Mrs. Wishart needed constant attention, and had it; and nobody else saw Lois for more than the merest snatches of time. I think Lois made these moments as short as she could. Tom was in despair, but stuck to his post and his determination; and with sighs and groans his mother and sister held fast to theirs. The hotel at Appledore made a good thing of it.
Then one day Tom was lounging on the piazza at the time of the steamer's coming in from Portsmouth; and in a short time thereafter a new guest was seen advancing towards the hotel. Tom gave her a glance or two; he needed no more. She was middle-aged, plain, and evidently not from that quarter of the world where Mr. Tom Caruthers was known. Neatly dressed, however, and coming with an alert, business step over the grass, and so she mounted to the piazza. There she made straight for Tom, who was the only person visible.
"Is this the place where a lady is lying sick and another lady is tendin' her?"
"That is the case here," said Tom politely. "Miss Lothrop is attending upon a sick friend in this house."
"That's it—Miss Lothrop. I'm her aunt. How's the sick lady? Dangerous?"