Jim Dodge brought 'em here in the auto; and she told him to
go around and gather up all the ladies that didn't have conveyances
of their own."
"And that's how I came to be here," said Mrs. Mixter. "Our horse has
gone lame."
"Well now, wa'n't that lovely?" crowed Mrs. Daggett, cooling her
flushed face with slow sweeps of the big turkey-feather fan Mrs. Dix
handed her. "Ain't she just the sweetest girl--always thinking of
other folks! I never see anything like her."
A subtle expression of reserve crept over the faces of the attentive
women. Mrs. Mixter tasted the contents of her glass critically.
"I don't know," she said dryly, as if the lemonade had failed to cool
her parched throat, "that depends on how you look at it."
Mrs. Whittle gave vent to a cackle of rather discordant laughter.
"That's just what I was telling Abby on the way over," she said.
"Once in a while you do run across a person that's bound to make a
show of their money."
Mrs. Solomon Black, in a green and white sprigged muslin dress, her
water-waves unusually crisp and conspicuous, bit off a length of
thread with a meditative air.
"Well," said she, "that girl lived in my house, off an' on, for more
than two months. I can't say as I think she's the kind that wants to
show off."
Fifteen needles paused in their busy activities, and twice as many
eyes were focused upon Mrs. Solomon Black. That lady sustained the
combined attack with studied calm. She even smiled, as she jerked her
thread smartly through a breadth of red flannel.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187