"He hasn't to me, either," said Mrs. Lapham, with a sigh of trouble. "Then what makes him keep coming?"
"I can't tell you. One thing, he says there isn't a house open in Boston where he's acquainted. Wait till some of his friends get back, and then if he keeps coming, it'll be time to inquire."
"Well!" said the mother; but as the weeks passed she was less and less able to attribute Corey's visits to his loneliness in town, and turned to her husband for comfort.
"Silas, I don't know as we ought to let young Corey keep coming so. I don't quite like it, with all his family away."
"He's of age," said the Colonel. "He can go where he pleases. It don't matter whether his family's here or not."
"Yes, but if they don't want he should come? Should you feel just right about letting him?"
"How're you going to stop him? I swear, Persis, I don't know what's got over you! What is it? You didn't use to be so. But to hear you talk, you'd think those Coreys were too good for this world, and we wa'n't fit for 'em to walk on."
"I'm not going to have 'em say we took an advantage of their being away and tolled him on."
"I should like to HEAR 'em say it!" cried Lapham. "Or anybody!"
"Well," said his wife, relinquishing this point of anxiety, "I can't make out whether he cares anything for her or not. And Pen can't tell either; or else she won't."