Alvord, who, as usual, was an attentive and quiet
listener, sitting a little in the background, so that his face was in
partial shadow. Keen-eyed Maggie, whose sympathies were deeply enlisted
in behalf of her sad and taciturn neighbor, observed that he regarded Amy
with a close, wistful scrutiny, as if he were reading her thoughts. Then
an expression of anguish, of something like despair, flitted across his
face. "He has lavished the best treasures of his heart and life on some
one who did not care," was her mental comment.
"You won't be like our little friend in blue, eh, Amy?" said old Mr.
Clifford; but with girlish shyness she would not reply to any such
question.
"Don't take it so to heart, Miss Amy. Mr. B. is never disenchanted," the
doctor remarked.
"I don't like Mrs. B. at all," said Maggie, decidedly; "and it seems to
me that I know women of whom she is a type--women whose whole souls are
engrossed with their material life. Human husbands are not so blind as
bluebirds, and they want something more than housekeepers and nurses in
their wives."
"Excellent!" cried Rev. Mr. Barkdale; "you improve the occasion better
than I could. But, doctor, how about our callous widow bluebird finding
another mate after the mating season is over?"
"There are always some bachelors around, unsuccessful wooers whose early
blandishments were vain."
"And are there no respectable spinsters with whom they might take up as a
last resort?" Leonard queried.
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