"I talked to him day before yesterday," said Naomi. "I think I may go to sing in the choir while we are on our holiday."
Vaguely Philip began to sense the existence of a plot, conceived and carried out with the express purpose of forcing him to do something he had no desire to do. It seemed to him that they had rehearsed the affair.
"There is an empty place on the alto side," observed Emma. "They could use a good strong voice like yours."
"Of course," said Naomi, "it's so long since I've sung—not since I used to lead the singing at the revival meetings."
"And Philip—he used to sing."
"He never does now. He wouldn't help me teach the natives at Megambo."
Philip, listening, fancied that he caught a sympathetic glance from Aunt Mabelle. She was silly and stupid, but sometimes it seemed to him that she had flashes of uncanny intuition: she had, after all, had great experience with the tactics of Elmer and his sister. She sat opposite Philip, eating far too much, lost in cowlike tranquillity. She was still bearing patiently the burden which by some error in calculation had been expected hourly for more than a month. Only yesterday she had said, "I expect little Jimmy will have all his teeth and be two years old when he is born!"—a remark that was followed by an awkward silence. Married to another man she would undoubtedly have had ten or fifteen children, for she was born to such a rôle.
"That's how I met Elmer," she said brightly, "sing-
