She is a sweet woman, as you say."
"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, "get Martha to be neighborly with her. She
needs neighboring. And Martha could teach her so many things--she's
such a sensible woman."
"Yes; Martha is sensible," William agreed. "Dr. Lavendar, did you ever
notice how, when she laughs, she has a way of putting her hands on the
top of her head, and sort of drawing them down over her eyes like a
girl? It's as pretty!"
Dr. Lavendar tried to remember. "Why, no," he said; "I don't know that
I ever noticed it. Martha doesn't laugh very often."
"Martha?" William repeated puzzled. "Oh--I was speaking of Mrs.
Richie."
"Oh," said Dr. Lavendar.
CHAPTER XV
Every Sunday morning Mr. Samuel Wright and Mr. Thomas Dilworth--the
one pale and pompous, the other rosy and smiling--took up the
collection in St. Michael's. A mahogany pole with a black velvet pouch
on one end, was thrust solemnly into each pew, then drawn back with
very personal pauses--which were embarrassing if you had forgotten to
put some change into your glove before starting for church. When these
poles had raked every pew, they were carried up the aisle to Dr.
Lavendar, who, taking hold of the purple tassel on the bottom of each
bag, turned the contents into a silver plate. The change came out with
a fine clatter; we children used to keep awake on purpose to hear it.
Once in a while a bill would rustle out with the silver and balance on
the top.
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