The eminent critic frowned grimly and took a fourth cream biscuit without noticing it.

“Not a mite!” declared Mrs. Sykes.  “The man ain’t born that can fluster Mr. Macnair.  Nor yet the woman, unless it’s Esther Coombe—­Land sakes, Doctor!  I forgot to tell you how that cup tips!  Ann, get a clean table napkin.  I hope your nice white pants ain’t ruined, Doctor?  I really ought to put that cup away but it’s a good cup if it’s held steady and I hate to waste good things.  Last time it tipped was when the Ladies’ Aid met here.  Mrs. Coombe had it and the whole cup spilled right over her dress.  I was that mortified!  But she didn’t seem to care.  I can’t imagine what’s the matter with that woman.  She’s getting dreadful careless about her clothes.  Next time I met her she wore that same dress, splash an’ all!  ’Tisn’t as if she hadn’t plenty of new things,—­more than they can afford, if what folks say is true.  You haven’t met Mrs. Coombe yet, have you, Doctor?”

“She is away from home.”

“Well, when you do meet her you’ll see what I mean, or like as not you won’t, being a man.  Men never seem to see anything wrong with Mary Coombe.  But Esther must feel dreadful mortified sometimes when her Ma forgets to get hooked up behind.  Esther’s as neat as a pin.  Always was.  Why, even when she got home last week after that awful time you and she had up at Pine Lake, and her having to stay overnight without so much as a clean collar, she walked in here as fresh as a daisy—­won’t you let me give you some more coffee, Professor?”

“Thank you, yes.  You were saying—­”

“Willits, do you think so much coffee is good for you?”

“Land sakes, Doctor, my coffee won’t hurt him!  It never seems to trouble you any.  As I was saying, one would almost have thought that what with picnicking in the bush all day and trapesing around in a canoe half the night and having to stay where she wasn’t expected and wouldn’t like to ask the loan of the flat-irons—­”

“Please, Mrs. Sykes, don’t let Ann eat another biscuit.  I don’t want her to be ill just when I want a day off to take Willits to church.  Willits, as your medical adviser, I forbid more coffee.  He will really injure himself, Mrs. Sykes, if I do not take him away.  He isn’t used to breakfasts like this and his constitution won’t stand it.”

Mrs. Sykes beamed graciously under this delicate compliment and confiscated Ann’s latest biscuit with a ruthless hand.  “If you gentlemen would like to sit in the parlour—­” she offered graciously.  But Callandar with equal graciousness declined.  The office would do quite well enough.  Willits might want to smoke.  “And as it-seems that my watch has stopped,” he added, “perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us when it is time to change for church.”

The professor settled himself primly upon the hardest chair which the office contained and refused a cigar.

“You seem to have acquired a reprehensible habit of fooling, Henry,” he said.  “Your language also is strange.  When, for instance, you say ‘change for church,’ to what sort of transformation do you refer?”