Whatever prickings of conscience there might have been under the gay
muslin and silks of her little audience, each woman privately
resented the superior attitude assumed by Mrs. Solomon Black.
"Easy f'r _her_ t' talk," murmured Mrs. Fulsom, from between puckered
lips; "_she_ didn't lose no money off Andrew Bolton."
"An' she didn't get none, neither, when it come t' dividin' up," Mrs.
Mixter reminded her.
"That's so," assented Mrs. Fulsom, as she followed in pretty Mrs.
Mixter's wake to greet the newly-married pair.
"My! ain't you proud o' her," whispered Abby Daggett to Maria Dodge.
"She's a perfec' pictur' o' joy, if ever I laid my eyes on one!"
Fanny stood beside her tall husband, her pretty face irradiating
happiness. She felt a sincere pity welling up in her heart for Ellen
Dix and Joyce Fulsom and the other girls. Compared with her own
transcendent experiences, their lives seemed cold and bleak to Fanny.
And all the while she was talking to the women who crowded about her.
"Yes; we are getting nicely settled, thank you, Mrs. Fulsom--all but
the attic. Oh, how'd you do, Judge Fulsom?"
The big man wiped the perspiration from his bald forehead.
"Just been fetchin' in th' ice cream freezers," he said, with his
booming chuckle. "I guess I'm 's well 's c'n be expected, under th'
circumstances, ma'am.... An' that r'minds me, parson, a little matter
was s'ggested t' me. In fact, I'd thought of it, some time ago. No
more 'n right, in view o' th' facts.
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