She is rather stupid sometimes, and doesn't know when things are funny; but she never means to be really horrid, I am sure." "Well, I think she is an old cat," persisted Christopher.
"The only thing I don't like about her is her gloves," added Elisabeth thoughtfully; "they are so old they smell of biscuit.

Isn't it funny that old gloves always smell of biscuit.

I wonder why ?" "I think they do," agreed Christopher; "but nobody except you would ever have thought of saying it.

You have a knack of saying what everybody else is thinking; and that is what makes you so amusing." "I'm glad you think I'm amusing; but I can't see much funniness in just saying what is true." "Well, I can't explain why it is funny; but you really are simply killing sometimes," said Christopher graciously.
The next day, and on many succeeding ones, Elisabeth duly visited Jemima Stubbs and the invalid boy, although Christopher entreated her not to worry herself about them, and offered to go in her place.

But he failed to understand that Elisabeth was goaded by no depressing sense of duty, as he would have been in similar circumstances; she went because pity was a passion with her, and therefore she was always absorbingly interested in any one whom she pitied.