When I showed my last stocking to Granny Lasher she announced that it was much too small.

“Didn’t yer ever look at the big feet o’ he?” she asked.

“The big feet of who?” I asked, in an elegant form of speech.

“Th’ doctor,” she answered.

“But these are for my father,” I objected.

“Sure, I ought ter have knowed that,” she replied.  “Ye’ll be practicin’ on he first, and when yer does real good work ye’ll be knittin’ ’em fer th’ doctor.”

“Mrs. Sammy knits stockings for him,” I said, severely.

“Well, when he’s yer man ye’ll not be lettin’ other wimmin folks do his knittin’ fer he,” persisted the ancient dame.

I simply refuse to argue any more with them.  They have that idea in their hard old heads and it cannot be dislodged.  If you and I had been Newfoundlanders, Auntie dear, we would have married early and been expected to knit stockings, in the intervals of work on the flakes, for the rest of our natural lives.  The maidens of this island entertain visions of coming years devoted to the rearing of perfect herds of children, to assorted household work, to drying fish and knitting stockings for their lords and masters, until the end.

I even have a suspicion of Mrs. Barnett, sweet good soul though she be.  I walked up to her house yesterday, having met Dr. Grant on the way.  He left me at her door, and when I came in she looked at me, wistfully, and I intercepted the tiniest little sigh from her.

“What is the trouble?” I asked her.

“Oh!  Nothing in the world, my dear,” she answered, in that sweetly toned voice of hers.  “Do you know, when you were coming up the path I though that you and the doctor made the handsomest couple I have ever seen.”

I laughed right out, perhaps because I sought to conceal the fact that I was just the tiniest bit provoked.  She had said this with a little hesitancy, as if she had been just timidly venturing on deep waters.  She looked at me, and I think she sighed again, and immediately asked for my very expert advice about cutting into a piece of very cheap goods that has come from St. John’s, and with which she expects to make a dress for herself.  I felt like crying, and laid bare my profound ignorance, and then we had a good laugh together, for she was at once as bright again as she always is.  Then I played with the kiddies, who are cherubs, and we had tea, and when I left she looked at me again, with those beautiful wistful eyes.  I am afraid.  Aunt Jennie, that she is in league with the rest of the feminine population.  I think I am beginning to be glad that we are going away soon.

When I returned to our house I found Dr. Grant still there.  He has not been very busy lately, but he was showing symptoms of an early departure, returning certain flies he had been discussing to a very large fly-book.

Of course, Aunt Jennie, he is not at all responsible for this foolish talk, and I had no reason to be unpleasant to him.