“Mrs. Pritchett! Lucas!” gasped ’Phemie. “It isn’t so. You’re making it up out of whole cloth. We haven’t really done a thing for Mrs. Harrison—”
“You’ve thought to take her in and give her a home—”
“No, no! I am sure she will earn her living here.”
“But none of us–folks that had knowed her for years–thought to give the poor old critter a chanst,” burst out the lady. “Oh, I know Cyrus wouldn’t ’a’ heard to our taking her; and I dunno as we could have exactly afforded it, for me an’ Sairy is amply able to do the work; but our Ladies’ Aid never thought to do a thing for her–nor nobody else,” declared Mrs. Pritchett.
“You two gals was ministerin’ angels. I don’t suppose we none of us really knowed how Mis’ Harrison felt about going to the poorhouse. But we didn’t inquire none, either.
“And here’s Lyddy! My dear, I’m too fat to get down easy. I hope you’ll come and shake hands with me.”
“Why–certainly,” responded Lyddy. “And I am really glad to see you, dear Mrs. Pritchett.”
She had evidently overheard some, if not all, of the good lady’s earnest speech. Harris Colesworth appeared, too, and Professor Spink was right behind him.
“You stopped for me, as I asked you to, Lucas?” asked the young chemist.
“Sure, Mr. Colesworth.”