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II.

Mrs. Captain Topliff and Miss Miranda Hull were sitting together one late summer afternoon in Mrs. Topliff’s south chamber. They were at work upon a black dress which was to be made over, and each sat by a front window with the blinds carefully set ajar.

“This is a real handy room to sew in,” said Miranda, who had come early after dinner for a good long afternoon. “You git the light as long as there is any; and I do like a straw carpet; I don’t feel’s if I made so much work scatterin’ pieces.”

“Don’t you have no concern about pieces,” answered Mrs. Topliff, amiably. “I was precious glad to get you right on the sudden so. You see, I counted on my other dress lasting me till winter, and sort of put this by to do at a leisure time. I knew ‘t wa’n’t fit to wear as ‘t was. Anyway, I’ve done dealin’ with Stover; he told me, lookin’ me right in the eye, that it was as good a wearin’ piece o’ goods as he had in the store. ‘T was a real cheat; you can put your finger right through it.”

“You’ve got some wear but of it,” ventured Miranda, meekly, bending over her work. “I made it up quite a spell ago, I know. Six or seven years, ain’t it, Mis’ Topliff?”

“Yes, to be sure,” replied Mrs. Topliff, with suppressed indignation; “but this we’re to work on I had before the Centennial. I know I wouldn’t take it to Philadelphy because ‘t was too good. An’ the first two or three years of a dress don’t count. You know how ‘t is; you just wear ’em to meetin’ a pleasant Sunday, or to a funeral, p’r’aps, an’ keep ’em in a safe cluset meanwhiles.”

“Goods don’t wear as ‘t used to,” agreed Miranda; “but ‘t is all the better for my trade. Land! there’s some dresses in this town I’m sick o’ bein’ called on to make good’s new. Now I call you reasonable about such things, but there’s some I could name”–Miss Hull at this point put several pins into her mouth, as if to guard a secret.

Mrs. Topliff looked up with interest. “I always thought Ann Ball was the meanest woman about such expense. She always looked respectable too, and I s’pose she ‘d said the heathen was gittin’ the good o’ what she saved. She must have given away hundreds o’ dollars in that direction.”

“She left plenty too, and I s’pose Cap’n Asaph’s Mis’ French will get the good of it now,” said Miranda through the pins. “Seems to me he’s gittin’ caught in spite of himself. Old vain creatur’, he seemed to think all the women-folks in town was in love with him.”

“Some was,” answered Mrs. Topliff. “I think any woman that needed a home would naturally think ‘t was a good chance.” She thought that Miranda had indulged high hopes, but wished to ignore them now.

“Some that had a home seemed inclined to bestow their affections, I observed,” retorted the dressmaker, who had lost her little property by unfortunate investment, but would not be called homeless by Mrs. Topliff. Everybody knew that the widow had set herself down valiantly to besiege the enemy; but after this passage at arms between the friends they went on amiably with their conversation.

“Seems to me the minister and Mis’ Calvinn are dreadful intimate at the Cap’n’s. I wonder if the Cap’n’s goin’ to give as much to the heathen as his sister did?” said Mrs. Topliff, presently.

“I understood he told the minister that none o’ the heathen was wuth it that ever he see,” replied Miranda in a pinless voice at last. “Mr. Calvinn only laughed; he knows the Cap’n’s ways. But I shouldn’t thought Asaph Ball would have let his hired help set out and ask company to tea just four weeks from the day his only sister was laid away. ‘T wa’n’t feelin’.”