"A whiff?" I asked, in surprise.
"Hot—raspberry—pies," he explained, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I was completely satisfied and engaged him on the spot, sending him to milk at once. He had scarcely departed when the door into the dining-room opened and Marion appeared. I saw from her face that she had been listening to the conversation, and that indignation and amusement struggled for mastery.
"You wr-r-etch!" she ejaculated.
I said nothing. I was master of the situation, and I knew it was one of the times when she could imagine more provoking insinuations than I could put into words.
"What are you laughing at?" she cried indignantly.
"I was just thinking—" I began, then I paused dramatically.
"Thinking what?" she demanded.
"That William Wedder is either a married man or a widower."