“Yes, dear,” said Kate. “Did Ruth tell you?”
“When did that aimless infant ever tell anything?”
“Then how did you know it?”
“If I waited for knowledge till that sweet-tempered parrot chose to tell me,” Aunt Jane went on, “I should be even more foolish than I am.”
“Then how did you know?”
“Of course I heard the boat hauled down, and of course I knew that none but lovers would go out just before a thunder-storm. Then you and Harry came in, and I knew it was the others.”
“Aunt Jane,” said Kate, “you divine everything: what a brain you have!”
“Brain! it is nothing but a collection of shreds, like a little girl’s work-basket,—a scrap of blue silk and a bit of white muslin.”
“Now she is fishing for compliments,” said Kate, “and she shall have one. She was very sweet and good to Philip last night.”
“I know it,” said Aunt Jane, with a groan. “I waked in the night and thought about it. I was awake a great deal last night. I have heard cocks crowing all my life, but I never knew what that creature could accomplish before. So I lay and thought how good and forgiving I was; it was quite distressing.”