'"
"The very thing," said Mrs. Sequin, eager to seize upon any suggestion
that emanated from the Queerington intellect. "But who does the ground
belong to?"
"It belongs to Mr. Wicker, now."
"Wicker?" repeated Mrs. Sequin. "Where have I heard that name? Why,
Cousin John, wasn't that the man Don stayed with, when he was looking
for a farm? How we laughed over that absurd notion of his farming!"
"I did not laugh at it," said the Doctor. "I encouraged him. It seemed
to me the most excellent idea!"
"But you did not allow for Don's fickleness. Of course he's a darling
fellow but he has had as many hobbies as he has had sweethearts."
"I allowed for his character, which may yet strike root in the proper
soil," the Doctor said with dignity; then turning to Miss Lady, who
had risen and was standing by the bed, her hands tightly clasped and
her eyes fixed on his, he explained: "We are speaking of the young
brother of Mrs. Sequin; I was telling you about him this morning. Why,
child!" For Miss Lady had suddenly dropped her face in her hands and
made a rush for the door.
"It's the shock of her father's death," explained Mrs. Sequin, who
prided herself on divining motives.
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