But in the short twilight before the parlor
fire, and at the supper-table, the easy commonplaces of conversation
tingled with the consciousness of the inevitable reappearance of those
same topics. Once, at the table, he looked at her with a frown.
"What's the matter, Nelly? You look old! Have you been sick?"
"Things have happened," she said with an effort; "I've been worried."
"What things?" he said; but before she could reply, Sarah came in with
hot waffles, and the subject was dropped.
"You need more cinnamon with this sugar," Mr. Pryor said with
annoyance. And Helena, flushing with anxiety, told the woman to add
some cinnamon at once. "Oh, never mind now," he said.--"But you ought
to look out for things like that," he added when Sarah had left the
room. And Helena said quickly, that she would; she was so sorry!
"Dr. Lavendar," David announced, "he won't let you say you don't like
things. He says it ain't polite. But I don't like--"
"Dry up! dry up!" Mr. Pryor said irritably; "Helena, this young man
talks too much."
Helena whispered to David to be quiet. She had already arranged with
him that he was not to come into the parlor after supper, which was an
agreeable surprise to him; "For, you know, I don't like your brother,"
he said, "nor neither does Danny." Helena was too absorbed to
remonstrate; she did, however, remember to tell Mr. Pryor that David
had asked if she was coming up to hear him say his prayers.
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