“My dear, I am sorry to hear a woman say it,” answered Mrs Dorothy, with as much warmth as was consonant with her nature. “I hoped that was a man’s delusion.”
“Why, Mrs Dolly! I do,” said Rhoda, with great candour.
“Then I wish you more wisdom, child.”
“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed Rhoda. “Didn’t you, when you were young, Mrs Dolly?”
“No, I thank God, nor when I was old neither,” replied Mrs Dorothy, in the same tone.
“But, Mrs Dolly! A maid has no station in society!” said Rhoda, using a phrase which she had picked up from one of her grandfather’s books.
“My dear, your station is where God puts you. A maid has just as good a station as a wife; and a much pleasanter, to my thinking.”
“Pleasanter!” exclaimed Rhoda. “Why, Mrs Dolly, nobody thinks anything of an old maid, except to pity her.”
“They may keep their pity to themselves,” said Mrs Dorothy, with a little laugh. “We old maids can pity them back again, and with more reason.”
“Mrs Dolly, would you have all the world hermits?”