They got up and said the different things usual. And I went and sat down.
"You'll think in a minute," says I, "that I owe you both an apology. But I don't."
"What for, dear?" Mrs. Bride says, and took my hand.
I'm an old woman and I felt like their mother and their grandmother. But I felt a little frightened too.
"Is either of you sick?" I says.
Both of them says: "No, I ain't." And both of them looked furtive and quick at the other.
"Well," I says, "mebbe you don't know it. But to-day both of you has had the symptoms of coming down with something. Something serious."
They looked at me, puzzled.
"I noticed it in Mrs. Bride this morning," I says, "when she came over to my house. She looked white, and like all the life had gone out of her. And she didn't sing once all day, nor do any work. Then I noticed it in you to-night," I says to him, "when you walked looking down, and came acrost the street lack-luster, and like nothing mattered so much as it might have if it had mattered more. And so I done the natural thing. I told each of you about something being the matter with the other one. Something serious."