Jones, your towels that you had out bleaching, this
spring, were wonderful," said Aunt Katy. "But I don't pretend to do
much now," she continued, straightening her trim figure. "I'm getting
old, you know; we must let the young folks take up these things. Mary
spins better now than I ever did. Mary, hand out those napkins."
And so Mary's napkins passed from hand to hand.
"Well, well," said Mrs. Twitchel to Mary, "it's easy to see that _your_
linen-chest will be pretty full by the time _he_ comes along; won't it,
Miss Jones?"--and Mrs. Twitchel looked pleasantly facetious, as elderly
ladies generally do, when suggesting such possibilities to younger
ones.
Mary was vexed to feel the blood boil up in her cheeks in a most
unexpected and provoking way at the suggestion; whereat Mrs. Twitchel
nodded knowingly at Mrs. Jones, and whispered something in a mysterious
aside, to which plump Mrs. Jones answered,--"Why, do tell! now I
never!"
"It's strange," said Mrs. Twitchel, taking up her parable again, in
such a plaintive tone that all knew something pathetic was coming,
"what mistakes some folks will make, a-fetchin' up girls. Now there's
your Mary, Miss Scudder,--why, there a'n't nothin' she can't do; but
law, I was down to Miss Skinner's, last week, a-watchin' with her, and
re'lly it 'most broke my heart to see her.
Pages:
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308