Mrs. Banks shifted in her chair, and gazed thoughtfully down the garden. “Of course my idea was for them to wait till I was gone,” she said at length.
“Just so,” replied the other, “and more’s the pity.”
“But Elizabeth’s getting on and I don’t seem to go,” continued the old lady, as though mildly surprised at Providence for its unaccountable delay; “and there’s Fred, he ain’t getting younger.”
Captain Barber puffed at his pipe. “None of us are,” he said profoundly.
“And Fred might get tired of waiting,” said Mrs. Banks, ruminating.
“He’d better let me hear him,” said the uncle, fiercely; “leastways, o’ course, he’s tired o’ waiting in a sense. He’d like to be married.”
“There’s young Gibson,” said Mrs. Banks in a thrilling whisper.
“What about him?” enquired Barber, surprised at her manner.
“Comes round after Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Banks.
“No!” said Captain Barber, blankly.