Captain Price was so dumbfounded that for a moment words failed him. Then he said, meekly, “Does your mother object to tobacco smoke, ma'am?”
“It is injurious to all ladies' throats,” said Miss North, her voice quivering and determined.
“Does your mother resemble you, madam?” said Captain Price, slowly.
“Oh no! my mother is pretty. She has my eyes, but that's all.”
“I didn't mean in looks,” said the old man; “she did not look in the least like you; not in the least! I mean in her views?”
“Her views? I don't think my mother has any particular views,” Miss North answered, hesitatingly; “I spare her all thought,” she ended, and her thin face bloomed suddenly with love.
Old Chester rocked with the Captain's report of his call; and Mrs. Cyrus told her husband that she only wished this lady would stop his father's smoking.
“Just look at his ashes,” said Gussie; “I put saucers round everywhere to catch 'em, but he shakes 'em off anywhere—right on the carpet! And if you say anything, he just says, 'Oh, they'll keep the moths away!' I worry so for fear he'll set the house on fire.”
Mrs. Cyrus was so moved by Miss North's active mission-work that the very next day she wandered across the street to call. “I hope I'm not interrupting you,” she began, “but I thought I'd just—”
“Yes; you are,” said Miss North; “but never mind; stay, if you want to.” She tried to smile, but she looked at the duster which she had put down upon Mrs. Cyrus's entrance.