"Drive on, Trimmer, I shall take the dog-cart."
"Yes, sir."
"What a sweet spot and how quaint the shops look," said Mrs. Marchmont as they were rapidly driven through the village.
"Not quaint, but vacant" laughed Mrs. Tompkins, "the whole thing has a vacant air about it, the inhabitant looks as though he was born yesterday and wondering what day it was; I'd rather see a yankee whittling a stick with his saucy independent air; hat on the back of his head so he can see what is going on, than any one of 'em."
"I could buy out the whole lot myself," said Blanche jeeringly, with her small head turning as if on a pivot.
"What a delightful feeling," said Mrs. Meltonbury, admiringly, "Yes it's just too lovely. If my poppa was here he'd throw no end of dimes and pea-nuts among 'em; always had pea-nuts in his pockets; how they stare, it's just too funny for anything."
"How wealthy he must have been, I just adore money!" said the
Meltonbury.
"I believe you," answered Blanche laconically.
"Pity you have that husband out in Ontario, Melty," said Mrs. Tompkins, "or I should soon find you another millionaire, you ought to get a divorce, plea; he is Canadian Government attache not your attache."
"What a dear thing you are; it would be too sweet."