That same Mrs. Roderick I was
speaking of never grew up. She was as foolish when she
was a hundred as when she was ten."
"Perhaps that was why she lived so long," suggested
Anne.
"Maybe 'twas. _I_'d rather live fifty sensible years
than a hundred foolish ones."
"But just think what a dull world it would be if
everyone was sensible," pleaded Anne.
Miss Cornelia disdained any skirmish of flippant
epigram.
"Mrs. Roderick was a Milgrave, and the Milgraves never
had much sense. Her nephew, Ebenezer Milgrave, used to
be insane for years. He believed he was dead and used
to rage at his wife because she wouldn't bury him.
_I_'d a-done it."
Miss Cornelia looked so grimly determined that Anne
could almost see her with a spade in her hand.
"Don't you know ANY good husbands, Miss Bryant?"
"Oh, yes, lots of them--over yonder," said Miss
Cornelia, waving her hand through the open window
towards the little graveyard of the church across the
harbor.
"But living--going about in the flesh?" persisted
Anne.
"Oh, there's a few, just to show that with God all
things are possible," acknowledged Miss Cornelia
reluctantly.
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