"But I thought Miss Pattison was so good in finishing off that dress for Miss Gilbert that you couldn't get done, and not even wanting to be paid for the work," remarked Mrs. Groates, who pretty well understood the state of the case.
"O yes, I dare say. She's deep, that Miss Pattison. It sounded fine and grand, and it's brought her in a lot of work; and she knew what she was about all the while. I've got no patience with that sort of showing off. And now she'll do her best to ruin sister and me."
"I think you are wrong, Miss Sophy; I do think so really," Mrs. Groates answered, trying to control her indignation. "Miss Pattison isn't that sort, I'm sure. Not as I know her well; but I do like to be fair to people. And only yesterday Mrs. Mokes was in a regular taking because she says that Miss Pattison wouldn't have nothing to do with making dresses for her. She wasn't going to make dresses for none of your customers. And Mrs. Mokes was as vexed as could be."
"Yes, I dare say! That's the way. Setting up herself to make dresses for the ladies of Maxham Hall and Lee Court. She's doing both, I know. And they've never been to sister and me all the years we've done dressmaking here. Oh, I dare say Miss Pattison wasn't likely to make a dress for anybody so humble as Mrs. Mokes—I shouldn't wonder if she wouldn't! But as for her pretending it's for our sake,—no, no, I know better."
Mrs. Groates was silent. She really did not feel capable of answering this outflow of ill-will. That Miss Sophy was utterly in the wrong in her estimate of Mildred Pattison, Mrs. Groates had not the smallest doubt, but to convince Miss Sophy of the same would be a difficult matter. The outflow went on, unchecked:—
"There's carriages stopping at the door of Periwinkle Cottage, and ladies going up Miss Perkins' stairs to be tried on, and Miss Perkins thinking herself as grand as anything. And as for Jessie, why her head's fairly turned. If you don't see it, I do. Jessie used to be mighty good friends with your Jack, and folks did say something was to come of it, but now she'll scarce turn her head his way. Jack's nothing like good enough for her."
"How do you know?" demanded Mrs. Groates, her motherly heart aching for Jack.
"Why, anybody can see, I should think. It don't take much in the way of eyes. And it isn't seeing only. I said something to Jessie herself about Jack one day,—just in a friendly sort of way. And, dear me, didn't she give herself airs, and toss up her head.
"'Marry Jack Groates?' says she; 'not if I was to be paid for it!'
"'But you would if he asked you,' says I.