"Did he die of a fever, marm?"

"I'm not exactly sure," replied she, hurriedly.

"May I ask how long it is since he died?" continued my father.

"Oh! Mr. Saunders," replied the widow, confusedly, "I really don't
recollect just now. It's very painful to answer such questions."

"Not if you've been a widow so long that you forget all about it; that's
all sham and nonsense. So you ain't sure _what_ he died of, nor _when_
it was that he died? Are you quite sure, marm, that your husband _is_
dead?"

Mrs. St. Felix started, turned very red, and then very pale.

"My sarvice to you for the present, marm," said my father, after a
pause, taking off his hat. "I suspect that I've found a way to stop your
tongue as well as my wife's. Broadside for broadside, that's fair play."

So saying, my father stumped away out of the shop door. Mrs. St. Felix
put her apron up to her eyes, with her elbows resting on the counter. I
waited a little, and then I said, "What is the matter, Mrs. St. Felix?"

She started at my voice.

"You here, Jack? I thought you had gone out with your father. Well,"
continued she, wiping her eyes, "it serves me right. I forgot that in
amusing myself I annoyed him. Jack, don't you mention anything about