Mrs. Ray gave her thread a jerk that broke it.
"They never get any letter, do they? You said they never did, didn't you?" Mrs. Dunstall was all query.
"No, they never get any letters."
"They claim to come from Cromwell, don't they?"
"I don't know. I never heard. I wouldn't believe anything they said. No trunks and stealing chestnuts all over. I never!"
"Wouldn't it be a funny thing if, after all these years, some stranger like those two was to come in from saints-know-where and marry Sammy?"
"Yes, it would be funny," said Mrs. Ray, "very funny. Yes, indeed. Yes, it would be very funny!"
"I thought I'd just stop and tell you," said Mrs. Dunstall. "I knew you'd be interested. I know you're such a friend of Sammy's. I thought if you knew, maybe you could look 'em up a little. Nathan's got an aunt living in Cromwell. If I was you I'd look 'em up, Mrs. Ray."
Mrs. Ray opened her scissors like the jaws of a shark.
"I am looking 'em up," she said, and the scissors closed with a snap full of meaning; "they'll soon find what it means to get no letters and write no letters and stop with Sammy Adams when it rains. Yes, indeed."