Mrs.Mel had to repress what she knew; Mrs.Fiske to control the passion for intelligence.
The close neighbourhood of one anxious to receive, and one capable of giving, waxed too much for both.
'I think, Anne, you are stupid this morning,' said Mrs.Mel.
'Well, I am, aunt,' said Mrs.Fiske, pretending not to see which was the first to unbend, 'I don't know what it is.

The figures seem all dazzled like.

I shall really be glad when Evan comes to take his proper place.' 'Ah!' went Mrs.Mel, and Mrs.Fiske heard her muttering.

Then she cried out: 'Are Harriet and Caroline as great liars as Louisa ?' Mrs.Fiske grimaced.

'That would be difficult, would it not, aunt ?' 'And I have been telling everybody that my son is in town learning his business, when he's idling at a country house, and trying to play his father over again! Upon my word, what with liars and fools, if you go to sleep a minute you have a month's work on your back.' 'What is it, aunt ?' Mrs.Fiske feebly inquired.
'A gentleman, I suppose! He wouldn't take an order if it was offered.
Upon my word, when tailors think of winning heiresses it's time we went back to Adam and Eve.' 'Do you mean Evan, aunt ?' interposed Mrs.Fiske, who probably did not see the turns in her aunt's mind.
'There--read for yourself,' said Mrs.Mel, and left her with the letter.
Mrs.Fiske read that Mr.Goren had been astonished at Evan's non-appearance, and at his total silence; which he did not consider altogether gentlemanly behaviour, and certainly not such as his father would have practised.