"
Alexander Abraham groaned, but I could see that the way I had looked
him over had chastened him considerably.
The doctor drove away, and I went into the house, not choosing to
linger outside and be grinned at by Thomas Wright. I hung my coat up
in the hall and laid my bonnet carefully on the sitting-room table,
having first dusted a clean place for it with my handkerchief.
I longed to fall upon that house at once and clean it up,
but I had to wait until the doctor came back with my wrapper.
I could not clean house in my new suit and a silk shirtwaist.
Alexander Abraham was sitting on a chair looking at me.
Presently he said,
"I am NOT curious--but will you kindly tell me why the doctor
called you Peter?"
"Because that is my name, I suppose," I answered, shaking up a cushion
for William Adolphus and thereby disturbing the dust of years.
Alexander Abraham coughed gently.
"Isn't that--ahem!--rather a peculiar name for a woman?"
"It is," I said, wondering how much soap, if any, there was
in the house.
"I am NOT curious," said Alexander Abraham, "but would you mind
telling me how you came to be called Peter?"
"If I had been a boy my parents intended to call me Peter in honour
of a rich uncle.
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