"The sleeves are short," said Mrs. Ray; "but that's fashionable this year. There was no other way, anyhow. I had to get 'em out from the knee down, and he was short there—like an elephant."
"How does it look in the back?"
"It's a little short in the back, but nothing to speak of. You see I had to swing the backs to get the coat skirts free of his side-seams; it sets very well, considering that."
"Yes, I like it," said Mrs. Wiley; "and I have my fur to sort of piece it up at the neck, anyway. You know, Mrs. Ray, if those two women are spies, I should think they'd wear nightgowns. I shouldn't think they'd want to attract so much attention, and of course not wearing nightgowns attracts lots of attention."
Mrs. Ray—having her mouth full of pins—made no reply.
"Lucia Cosby thinks they're tramps and nothing better," Mrs. Wiley continued; "nobody can understand Jack's keeping them so long."
Mrs. Ray continued silent.
"Ellen Scott says she's afraid of them; she thinks it's so queer they're not having any coats. But Ellen was always timid. She never got over that time the boys dressed up like Indians and kidnapped her on April Fool's Day when she was little."
Mrs. Ray stuck in the last pin and freed her mouth. "Well, all I can say is, we'll soon know now," she said; "all the wheels in the gods of the mills is turning now, and in the end the Lathbuns will be ground out exceeding small I hope and trust and am pretty sure of."
Mrs. Wiley looked down over herself with an air of intense satisfaction. "I don't see how you ever got it out," she repeated with deeply appreciative emphasis.