He made it brief. His first inquiries were concerning the child, and he was delighted to find that it still lived and was doing well. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. I’m sorry. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. You make me angry, and I lie. It would not have interested him in the least to learn that the tub ran on two powers—wind and oil.
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