"It is most annoying to have such things said," observed Kitty. "Really, Woodham is a most detestable place for gossip."
"Come, come, child!" said her mother. "Don't run down your native place. All little towns are pretty much the same, as far as gossip is concerned."
"Of course it is easy to see who started this report," she added, as Charlie disappeared from the room. "It originated over the way, no doubt."
"That horrid old Tabitha!" exclaimed Kitty. "She is the bane of the town. She ought to have been born a century earlier, when she might have been drowned as a witch! Ne that I should wish her to be drowned: but, you know, there really is something witch-like about her."
Aldyth could not help laughing at Kitty's ideas respecting Miss Rudkin.
"It's Clara Dawtrey's doing," Aldyth said. "She met me the other day walking with Mr. Glynne. That was foundation enough for this fabrication. Oh, dear! I should like to tell her what I think of it. But it would do no good."
"No, no!" said Mrs. Bland. "The best way is to take no notice, and let the report die a natural death."
The talk turned to other matters; but Mrs. Bland could see that throughout her visit, Aldyth's mind was dwelling on the unpleasant fact she had learned. Mrs. Bland was sorry for her, and indignant with Clara Dawtrey. She knew that nothing is more trying for a girl, nothing more prejudicial to her happiness, than to have her name thus coupled with that of a gentleman whose friendship she values.
Two evenings later Kitty came in from attending a meeting of the Woodham Sewing Club in a state of considerable excitement.
"What is the matter, Kitty?" asked her mother, for Kitty's face was crimson, her eyes sparkling, and she burst into the room in a way which showed no respect for the nerves of those who occupied it.