"Do you know the state of the thermometer?"
"I don't care anything about it," with some obstinacy, tugging at the button of her glove.
"But I do," he said. "Now, Miss Featherstone, while I'm here I am master of the house, and if it's necessary to go to town it's I that am going—to use Pat's vernacular—and not you. Give me directions, and I'll follow them implicitly."
"So Dick went, did he?" said Mrs. Pinckney. She was propped up in bed with large pillows: Miss Featherstone, still in her bonnet, sat by her side.
"Yes: it was very kind, for I don't know what would have become of the children all day, poor things! and you sick."
Mrs. Pinckney glanced searchingly at her. "Dick is very kind when he pleases, and exceedingly efficient," returned the invalid: "I've no doubt he'll bring back a capital cook."
"I had a great prejudice against Mr. Pinckney," said Miss Featherstone, slowly smoothing out her gloves, "but I confess it has vanished, there is something so straightforward and manly about him; and he certainly is very kind."
"He does not flatter you at all?"
"Oh no; and that is one reason I like him. I detest the gallant, tender manner which many men affect toward women."
"Doctor Harris, for instance?"