"Gad-a-mercy! Why not?" he interrupted. "Do you think you're too good for us here in Old Chester?" "Oh, Mr. Wright!" "Or perhaps Old Chester is too good for you?" His face had softened wonderfully; he was looking at her with the same quizzical delight with which he would look at one of his canaries when he caught it, and held it struggling in his hand. "Are we too good for you?" he jeered, "too--" He stopped abruptly, his laugh breaking off in the middle. Then his mouth fell slowly open in blank amazement; he leaned forward in his chair and stared at her without a word. "I don't care for society," she said, in a frightened way, and rose as if to bring the visit to an end. But Benjamin Wright sat still, slowly nodding his head. "You don't care for society? I wonder why." "Oh, because I am--a very quiet person," she stammered. The dining-room door opened and Sarah came in, looked about, found the decanter, and withdrew. "Where is--that gentleman?" the old man demanded. "Mr. Pryor went in to dinner," she said faintly. "Please excuse him; he was tired." The silence that fell between them was like a blow. ... Mr. Wright pulled himself to his feet, and with one shaking hand on the table felt his way around until he stood directly in front of her; he put his face close to hers and stared into her eyes, his lower lip opening and closing in silence. Then, without speaking, he began to grope about on the table for his hat and stick. "I will bid you good day," he said. Without another word he went shuffling out into the dark hall. At the front door he turned and looked back at her; then, slowly, shook his head. CHAPTER VI Poor Maggie paid for her good nature. On Sunday morning she was so decidedly worse that William King, to the disgust of his Martha, was summoned from his breakfast-table. "Women who can't look after a simple sore throat without bothering their doctors are pretty inefficient creatures," she said coldly. William thought of women who were so efficient that they did not hesitate to advise their doctors; but he only agreed with proper seriousness to Martha's declaration that it was too bad, for he would be late for church--"unless you hurry, William!" she called after him. Perhaps he hurried when he was with Maggie, but certainly he displayed no haste when giving his directions to Mrs. Richie, nor even later when just as he was about to drive off, Mr. Pryor hailed him from the garden. "How's your patient, doctor?" "Pretty sick. She didn't obey your sister's orders and keep in bed yesterday. So, of course, she's worse to-day." Mr. Pryor leaned a comfortable elbow on the green gate. "That's a nice prospect! What am I going to have to eat?" he said, good-humoredly.