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Updated: June 6, 2025
Toxer, had been in, and Aunt Winnifred had discussed her favorite theme until Mrs. Toxer went home with a vague idea that all the young and beautiful unmarried women in the city were secretly pining away for love of Arthur Merlin. "Mercy me, now!" said Aunt Winnifred as she lay listening to the creaking step of her nephew.
Then she plied her knitting-needles nimbly, sighed, scratched her head with a needle, counted her stitches, and said, "Sometimes I can't but hope that it is concern of mind, without his knowing it." Mrs. Toxer also knitted, and scratched, and counted. "No, ma'am; much more likely concern of heart with a full consciousness of it. One, two, three bless my soul! I'm always dropping a stitch."
If some gossip to whom she sighed and shook her head, and wondered what could possibly ail Arthur who still ate his dinner heartily, and had as many orders for portraits as he cared to fulfill suggested that there was a woman in the case, good Aunt Winnifred smiled bland incredulity. "Dear Mrs. Toxer, I should like to see that woman!"
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