Usually Mr. Patterson's face was as broad and beaming as a
harvest moon. Now his expression was very melancholy and his
voice positively sepulchral.

"Good morning," returned Miss Rosetta, crisply and cheerfully.
She, at any rate, would not go into eclipse until she knew the
reason therefor. "It is a fine day."

"A very fine day," assented Mr. Patterson, solemnly. "I have
just come from the Wheeler place, Miss Ellis, and I regret to
say--"

"Charlotte is sick!" cried Miss Rosetta, rapidly. "Charlotte has
got another spell with her heart! I knew it! I've been
expecting to hear it! Any woman that drives about the country as
much as she does is liable to heart disease at any moment. _I_
never go outside of my gate but I meet her gadding off somewhere.
Goodness knows who looks after her place. I shouldn't like to
trust as much to a hired man as she does. Well, it is very kind
of you, Mr. Patterson, to put yourself out to the extent of
calling to tell me that Charlotte is sick, but I don't really see
why you should take so much trouble--I really don't. It doesn't
matter to me whether Charlotte is sick or whether she isn't. YOU
know that perfectly well, Mr. Patterson, if anybody does. When
Charlotte went and got married, on the sly, to that good-for-nothing
Jacob Wheeler--"

"Mrs. Wheeler is quite well," interrupted Mr. Patterson
desperately. "Quite well. Nothing at all the matter with her,
in fact. I only--"