FullReads

“We also feel grateful in Woodville for our pastor’s efforts,” said Miss Pickett; but Mrs. Timms turned her head away sharply, as if the speech had been untimely, and trembling Miss Pickett had interrupted.

“They’re thinking here of raisin’ Mr. Barlow’s salary another year,” the hostess added; “a good many of the old parishioners have died off, but every one feels to do what they can. Is there much interest among the young people in Woodville, Mis’ Flagg?”

“Considerable at this time, ma’am,” answered Mrs. Flagg, without enthusiasm, and she listened with unusual silence to the subsequent fluent remarks of Mrs. Timms.

The parlor seemed to be undergoing the slow processes of a winter dawn. After a while the three women could begin to see one another’s faces, which aided them somewhat in carrying on a serious and impersonal conversation. There were a good many subjects to be touched upon, and Mrs. Timms said everything that she should have said, except to invite her visitors to walk upstairs and take off their bonnets. Mrs. Flagg sat her parlor-chair as if it were a throne, and carried her banner of self-possession as high as she knew how, but toward the end of the call even she began to feel hurried.

“Won’t you ladies take a glass of wine an’ a piece of cake after your ride?” inquired Mrs. Timms, with an air of hospitality that almost concealed the fact that neither cake nor wine was anywhere to be seen; but the ladies bowed and declined with particular elegance. Altogether it was a visit of extreme propriety on both sides, and Mrs. Timms was very pressing in her invitation that her guests should stay longer.

“Thank you, but we ought to be going,” answered Mrs. Flagg, with a little show of ostentation, and looking over her shoulder to be sure that Miss Pickett had risen too. “We’ve got some little ways to go,” she added with dignity. “We should be pleased to have you call an’ see us in case you have occasion to come to Woodville,” and Miss Pickett faintly seconded the invitation. It was in her heart to add, “Come any day next week,” but her courage did not rise so high as to make the words audible. She looked as if she were ready to cry; her usual smile had burnt itself out into gray ashes; there was a white, appealing look about her mouth. As they emerged from the dim parlor and stood at the open front door, the bright June day, the golden-green trees, almost blinded their eyes. Mrs. Timms was more smiling and cordial than ever.

“There, I ought to have thought to offer you fans; I am afraid you was warm after walking,” she exclaimed, as if to leave no stone of courtesy unturned. “I have so enjoyed meeting you again, I wish it was so you could stop longer. Why, Mis’ Flagg, we haven’t said one word about old times when we lived to Longport. I’ve had news from there, too, since I saw you; my brother’s daughter-in-law was here to pass the Sabbath after I returned.”

Mrs. Flagg did not turn back to ask any questions as she stepped stiffly away down the brick walk. Miss Pickett followed her, raising the fringed parasol; they both made ceremonious little bows as they shut the high white gate behind them. “Good-by,” said Mrs. Timms finally, as she stood in the door with her set smile; and as they departed she came out and began to fasten up a rose-bush that climbed a narrow white ladder by the steps.

“Oh, my goodness alive!” exclaimed Mrs. Flagg, after they had gone some distance in aggrieved silence, “if I haven’t gone and forgotten my bag! I ain’t goin’ back, whatever happens. I expect she’ll trip over it in that dark room and break her neck!”

“I brought it; I noticed you’d forgotten it,” said Miss Pickett timidly, as if she hated to deprive her companion of even that slight consolation.