Goodfellow answered fervently.
"There! You hear what he says?"
"Lydia, Lydia! I've the highest possible respect for your judgment;
but isn't this what you might cull a trifle--er--summary?"
"It saves time," said Miss Belcher. "And if you're going to catch
the real culprit, time is precious. Now take me to see the spot."
But at this point Mr. Goodfellow's emotions overmastered him, and he
broke forth into the language of rhapsody.
"O woman, woman!" exclaimed Mr. Goodfellow, "whatever would the world
do without your wondrous instink!"
"Bless the man!"--Miss Belcher drew back a pace--"is he talking of
me?"
"No, ma'am; generally, or, as you might say, of the sex as a whole.
Mind you, I won't go so far as to deny that the gentleman here--or
the constable, for that matter--had some excuse to be suspicious.
But to think o' me liftin' a hand against poor old Danny Coffin!
Why, ma'am, the times I've a-led him home from the public when
incapable is not to be numbered; and only at this very moment in my
little shop, home in Falmouth, I've a corner cupboard of his under
repair that he wouldn't trust to another living soul! And along
comes you an' say, 'That man's innocent! Look at his face!' you
says, which it's downright womanly instink, if ever there was such a
thing in this world.
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