"Well, it can't be helped," said Mrs. Crowley, obstinately. "Shure and if I don't go to folks' funerals they won't come to mine."
This was too much for Mandy and Hiram, and they began laughing, which so incensed Mrs. Crowley that she trudged off to her little room in the ell, which departure just suited Mandy and Hiram.
"Have you got any soft soap here in the kitchen?" asked Hiram.
"No," said Mandy, "I used the last this afternoon. I shall have to go out in the shed to-morrow morning and get some."
"You wouldn't be likely to go out to-night for any?" asked Hiram.
"I guess not," said Mandy. "Why, there is rats out in that shed as big as kittens. Did you want to use some?"
"No," said Hiram, "but I didn't want you to have any 'round handy, for I am bound to tell you I heard Strout telling the minister's son that Lindy Putnam writ a letter to Mr. Sawyer and mailed it at Mason's Corner post office this mornin', and it was directed to Eastborough Centre, and Strout said it looked as though they were keeping up correspondence. I tell you that made 'Manuel Howe mad, for he's gone on Lindy Putnam himself, and then Strout said that probably all the fellers in town would have to put off getting married until that city chap had decided which one of the girls he wanted himself. And now, hang it," said Hiram, "he has come to live in this house, and I sha'n't have any peace of mind."
Hiram dodged the first apple Mandy threw at his head, but the second one hit him squarely, and he gave a loud "Oh!"
"Stop your noise," said Mandy, "or Mr. Pettengill will be out here. I'll ask them if they want anything else," as she rapped on the door. There was no response and she opened it and looked in. "Why, they have all gone to bed," she said. At that moment the old clock in the kitchen struck nine. "It's nine o'clock and you had better be going home, Hiram Maxwell."
"I shall have to get some anarchy to put on my forehead," said Hiram. "See that big bump, Mandy, that you made."