“What is flooring Win at present,” said his father, “and getting him down and rolling him over, is that problem of the robin that eats half a pint of grasshoppers and then doesn't weigh a bit more than he did before.”
“When he gets a little older,” said the doctor, shaking over his plateful, “he'll be interested to trace the processes of his father's thought from a guest and half a peck of stewed chicken, to a robin and half a pint of—”
“Don't, doctor!” pleaded Mrs. Putney. “He won't have the least trouble if he'll keep to the surface.”
Putney laughed impartially, and said: “Well, we'll take the doctor out and weigh him when he gets done. We expected Brother Peck here this evening,” he explained to Dr. Morrell. “You're our sober second thought—Well,” he broke off, looking across the table at his wife with mock anxiety. “Anything wrong about that, Ellen?”
“Not as far as I'm concerned, Mrs. Putney,” interposed the doctor. “I'm glad to be here on any terms. Go on, Putney.”
“Oh, there isn't anything more. You know how Miss Kilburn here has been round throwing ridicule on Brother Peck, because he wants the shop-hands treated with common decency, and my idea was to get the two together and see how she would feel.”
Dr. Morrell laughed at this with what Annie thought was unnecessary malice; but he stopped suddenly, after a glance at her, and Putney went on—
“Brother Peck pleaded another engagement. Said he had to go off into the country to see a sick woman that wasn't expected to live. You don't remember the Merrifields, do you, Annie? Well, it doesn't matter. One of 'em married West, and her husband left her, and she came home here and got a divorce; I got it for her. She's the one. As a consumptive, she had superior attractions for Brother Peck. It isn't a case that admits of jealousy exactly, but it wouldn't matter to Brother Peck anyway. If he saw a chance to do a good action, he'd wade through blood.”
“Now look here, Ralph,” said Mrs. Putney, “there's such a thing as letting yourself too loose.”
“Well, gore, then,” said Putney, buttering himself a biscuit.