But if thee were to say, 'Have a cup of
coffee?' she would but answer, 'Has thee a four-leaved clover?' Does it
not seem strange to thee, and sad? We are used to it, as it might
be--quite used to it. And that above her is her picture as a girl."
"Saves her a deal of talking," said Mr. Wholesome, "and thinking. Any
words would serve her as well. Might have said, 'Topsail halyards,' all
the same."
"Richard!" said Mistress White. Mistress Priscilla White was her name.
"Perchance thee would pardon me," said Mr. Wholesome.
"I wonder," said a third voice in the window, "does the nice old dame
know what color has the clover? and does she remember fields of
clover--pink among the green?"
"Has thee a four-leaved clover?" re-echoed the voice feebly from between
the windows.
The man who was curious as to the dame's remembrances was a small stout
person whose arms and legs did not seem to belong to him, and whose face
was strangely gnarled, like the odd face a boy might carve on a
hickory-nut, but withal a visage pleasant and ruddy.
"That," said Mistress White as he moved away, "is Mr. Schmidt--an old
boarder with some odd ways of his own which we mostly forgive. A good
man if it were not for his pipe," she added demurely--"altogether a good
man."
"With or without his pipe," said Mr. Wholesome.
"Richard!" returned our hostess, with a half smile.
"Without his pipe," he added; and the unseen demons twitched at the
corners of his mouth anew.
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