"Appledore?" said Lois, pricking up her ears.
"Yes; there was a lot of 'em."
"People who did not know their own minds?" Mrs. Barclay asked, purposely and curiously.
"Well, no, I won't say that of all of 'em. There was some of 'em knew their own minds a'most too well; but he warn't one. He come to me once to help him out; and I filled his pipe for him, and sent him to smoke it."
"Aunt Anne!" said Lois, drawing up her pretty figure with a most unwonted assumption of astonished dignity. Both the dignity and the astonishment drew all eyes upon her. She was looking at Mrs. Marx with eyes full of startled displeasure. Mrs. Marx was entrenched behind a whole army of coffee and tea pots and pitchers, and answered coolly.
"Yes, I did. What is it to you? Did he come to you for help too?"
"I do not know whom you are talking of."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Marx. "I thought you did. Before I'd have you marry such a soft feller as that, I'd—I'd shoot him!"
There was some laughter, but Lois did not join in it, and with heightened colour was attending very busily to her supper.
"Was the poor man looking that way?" asked Mrs. Barclay.