She was the quietest and the stupidest person in the house, and she ruled both the others; she was the least scrupulous, and they exalted her “goodness”; she did nothing well, and continually they praised her for her wonderful housekeeping. Enigma; extraordinary Minnie, quintessence of womanliness--in Heaven’s name, who is to sit in judgment on you? III In the autumn the old lady was permitted to go downstairs once a day, and on the first of these occasions, Mr. Petersen came with a gift of fruit which he had bought in New York. Frances had told him of the old lady’s improvement and he wanted, so he said, to congratulate her. He came as usual on his horse, and Mrs. Defoe, who was sitting by the parlour window, was the first to see him. She frowned. “Silly nonsense!” she said, half aloud. “A carpenter, capering round the country like a fine gentleman!” (A carpenter she had decided to consider him.) He came in; his face and hands looked redder than ever, and he was frankly wiping his forehead with a huge handkerchief. “Well!” he said cheerfully, “I’m very glad to see you so much better, Mrs. Defoe.” “Thank you, Mr. Petersen,” she replied, demurely. “We’re likely to have a mild winter, I believe,” he went on, “from all indications----” He rose as Minnie came in, grave, like one interrupted in the midst of important work, but mindful of the duties of hospitality. “I was saying,” he resumed, in his singing drawl, “I think we’ll have a fine, mild winter. I was working in my garden on Sunday----” “On _Sunday_!” cried the old lady. “That’s the only day I have time,” he explained. “But---- Well, I have my little notions.... Very old-fashioned, I dare say.... You’re not a member of Our church, Mr. Petersen? I don’t remember ever having seen you there.” He shook his head. “A Lutheran?” “No.” “A--_Catholic_?” “I am a Freethinker,” he said gravely. This was the final straw; Minnie and the old lady stared at him in open disapproval. “I think maybe on the other side we are not so--religious,” he said. Mrs. Defoe had long been convinced of that, as she was of their immorality in general, but she was genuinely shocked that, under her roof, in the very room where the minister had sat not a week ago, in the very presence of her Bible and her prayer books, he should openly and without shame proclaim himself a Freethinker! Neither he nor Minnie had any idea what that word implied for her, with what horror and repulsion she had heard her husband speak of Tom Paine. She made some sort of excuse and, supported by Minnie, disappeared into the kitchen. “I’ll sit here,” she whispered, “until that man’s gone.”