When Martha, according to the custom of wives,
inquired categorically concerning his day in Philadelphia, he dragged
out most irritatingly vague answers. As she did not chance to ask,
"Did you hunt up Mr. Lloyd Pryor? Did you go to his house? Did you
expect an invitation and not receive it?" she was not informed on
these topics. But when at last she did say, "And my sachet-powder?" he
was compelled to admit that he had forgotten it.
Martha's lip tightened.
"I got the lye and stuff," her husband defended himself. "And what did
you want sachet-powder for, anyway?"
But Martha was silent.
After supper William strolled over to Dr. Lavendar's, and sat smoking
stolidly for an hour before he unbosomed himself. Dr. Lavendar did not
notice his uncommunicativeness; he had his own preoccupations.
"William, Benjamin Wright seems to be a good deal shaken this spring?"
Silence.
"He's allowed himself to grow old. Bad habit."
Silence.
"Got out of the way of doing things. Hasn't walked down the hill and
back for three years. He told me so himself."
"Indeed, sir?"
"For my part," Dr. Lavendar declared, "I have made a rule about such
things, which I commend to you, young man: _As soon as you feel too
old to do a thing_, DO IT!"
William gave the expected laugh.
"But he does seem shaken. Now, would it be safe, do you think, for him
to--well, very much excited? Possibly angered?"
"It wouldn't take much to anger Mr.
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