Mrs. Henry gave us a meal so good that I have remembered it, and her
husband, the Judge, strove his best that we should eat it in merriment.
He poured out his anecdotes like wine, and we should have quickly warmed
to them; but Dr. MacBride sat among us, giving occasional heavy ha-ha's,
which produced, as Miss Molly Wood whispered to me, a "dreadfully
cavernous effect." Was it his sermon, we wondered, that he was thinking
over? I told her of the copious sheaf of them I had seen him pull from
his wallet over at the foreman's. "Goodness!" said she. "Then are we to
hear one every evening?" This I doubted; he had probably been picking
one out suitable for the occasion. "Putting his best foot foremost," was
her comment; "I suppose they have best feet, like the rest of us." Then
she grew delightfully sharp. "Do you know, when I first heard him I
thought his voice was hearty. But if you listen, you'll find it's merely
militant. He never really meets you with it. He's off on his hill
watching the battle-field the whole time."

"He will find a hardened pagan here."

"Judge Henry?"

"Oh, no! The wild man you're taming. He's brought you _Kenilworth_ safe
back."

She was smooth. "Oh, as for taming him! But don't you find him
intelligent?"

Suddenly I somehow knew that she didn't want to tame him. But what did
she want to do? The thought of her had made him blush this afternoon. No
thought of him made her blush this evening.