Defending a lady's honor--or at least her age

At church on Sunday--this discussion took place in the library

Cantankerous Old Man (who apparently didn't listen to his mother growing up) :  Brother M----,  how old you you think Sister Campbell is?

Nice Older Man (a gentleman in every way):  Oh, she's not older than 30.

Brother Cantankerous: Pshaw, she's as old as dirt.

Brother Gentleman:  I don't believe THAT.

Brother Cantankerous (at least knows enough not to ask a woman how old she is directly):  Sister Campbell, how old is your oldest child?

Robyn (not really paying attention until this point):  She is 19. . . no wait, she's 18.  Yeah, that's right.

Brother Cantankerous:  See there is NO WAY she is in her 30s.

Brother Gentleman:  Well, I still think she is.

Robyn (to Brother Gentleman with a big smile):  Thank you, Brother M---!! I'll pay you later for that.  (to herself)  It's a good thing I know you well, Brother Cantankerous, or we might have to take this outside.