“I wouldn’t give Mark Twain for the lot,” commented Dorothy with decision.
“Mark Twain isn’t yours to give, my dear. He belongs to me also. You’ve forgotten that comparisons are odious. Our metier is not to compare, but to take what pleases us from each.
‘How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower.
Watts. You see, I’m still down among the W’s. Oh, Dorothy, how can you sit there so placidly when the ‘Consternation’ has just faded from sight? Selfish creature!
‘Oh, give me tears for others’ woes And patience for mine own.’
I don’t know who wrote that, but you have no tears for others’ woes, merely greeting them with ribald laughter,” for Dorothy, with the well-read letter in her hand, was making the rafters ring with her merriment, something that had never before happened during her long tenancy of that room. Kate turned her head slowly round, and the expression on her face was half-indignant, half-humorous, while her eyes were uncertain weather prophets, and gave equal indication of sunshine or rain.”
“Why, Katherine, you look like a tragedy queen, rather than the spirit of comedy! Is it really a case of ‘Tit-willow, tit-willow, tit-willow’? You see, I’m a-rescuing you from the bottom of the alphabet, and bringing you up to the Gilbert plane, where I am more accustomed to you, and understand you better. Is this despondency due to the departure of the ‘Consternation,’ and the fact that she carries away with her Jack Lamont, blacksmith?”
The long sigh terminated in a woeful “yes.”
“The ship that has gone out with him we call she. If he had eloped with a real she, then wearing the willow, or singing it, however futile, might be understandable. As it is I see nothing in the situation to call for a sigh.”
“That is because you are a hardened sinner, Dorothy. You have no heart, or at least if you have, it is untouched, and therefore you cannot understand. If that note in your hand were a love missive, instead of a letter from your lawyers, you would be more human, Dorothy.”
The hand which held the paper crumpled it up slightly as Katherine spoke.
“Business letters are quite necessary, and belong to the world we live in,” said Dorothy, a glow of brighter color suffusing her cheeks. “Surely your acquaintance with Mr. Lamont is of the shortest.”