The Doctor and his wife sat and looked each other in the face in mute astonishment as the young man rose and walked to the parlor-door.
They did not even breathe a word to Effie as she merrily followed him, and so they did not hear a syllable of what passed between those two in the outer hallway.
Nobody else did, but it seemed to interest them very much.
Indeed, as Brayton was compelled to whisper a part of it, he was also forced to lean his face very close to Euphemia’s in a way which would surely have caused Zebedee Fuller to say, had he been at hand:
“Dorothy would hardly approve of that, but I do.”
Alas, for Dorothy Jane!
For once in their wedded life the Doctor himself was now able to turn upon her with:
“I told you so. Now, if he lets it out we shall have all Ogleport laughing at us.”
And that was just what Mrs. Dryer dreaded of all things in the world, for the Dorcas Society was to meet at her house the very next day.
One consequence, however, was that when George Brayton “came over after tea,” he found that an important errand had called away his venerable superior, and that Mrs. Dryer was confined to her own room by a headache or something, leaving poor Euphemia to do the honors of the house all alone.