“And I said,” put in Mrs. Wright audaciously, “that you must be getting some wonderful piece of news.”
Aunt Naomi hitched up her shawl behind with a grasshopper-like motion of her elbows, and sat down with a wide grin.
“Well, this time you were right,” she said. “I was hearing Old Lady Andrews tell about her trip.”
“Old Lady Andrews?” echoed the ladies. “Has she got home?”
“Yes; she got here this noon.”
“And nobody but you knew it!” ejaculated Mrs. Cummings.
They all regarded Aunt Naomi with undisguised admiration, in every look acknowledging her cleverness in discovering what had been hid from the rest of the village. She smiled broadly, and seemed to drink in the sweet odor of this surprise and their homage as an idol might snuff up grateful fumes of incense.
“Did she bring home the body?” Mrs. Cummings asked after a moment, in a voice becomingly lowered.
“Yes, she did,” Aunt Naomi answered, with a chuckle of levity which seemed almost indecent. “She had a dreadful time finding out anything; but she had friends at Washington—her husband had cousins there, you know—and at last she got on the track.”