"He has his off-days, the same as the rest of us; days when things don't go right and he gets surly. But those spells pass quickly and he's always sorry for them, seemingly. There aren't any of us smooth-feathered all the time."
"When did he have one of these 'off-days,' as you call them, last?" The tone was careless, as if Cranston did not attach much importance to the enquiry, and yet made it, as in duty bound.
"On the Sunday before"
"May ninth," interrupted Cranston.
"Yes. In the afternoon he was dressed up to go visiting. Theodore sent for him to put his driving horse into the light buggy, so he could drive to Norridgewock. Jonathan didn't like it and said if he couldn't have Sunday afternoons, he'd find some place where he could."
"Was that all there was to it?" Cranston asked, after waiting a moment for Mrs. Parlin to continue.
"Why, about all. It's all too silly to repeat."
"I'd rather judge of that," Cranston said, more shortly perhaps than he intended.
