"I'm sure," said Mrs. Jones, "we are just as much in the dark as ever. We know what has been done, and who did it, the question is—"
"What are we goin' to do about it?" interrupted Mrs. Stout.
"We owe Mr. Flint an apology," Mrs. Tweedie replied.
"That's easy," said Mrs. Stout, "and don't cost anything."
"The virtue of dutifulness has nothing to do with ease or cost," replied Mrs. Tweedie, loftily. "I shall write the letter myself, and assume the full responsibility. Now, in regard to the creature that committed the crime, shall we take any legal steps?"
"Goodness, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, in alarm. "Legal steps cost ten dollars apiece, and there's no tellin' where they'll lead to."
Everybody laughed at this remark, and apparently good nature was restored.
"It would only mean more advertising," said Mrs. Blake, "and that is just what we are objecting to now."
"That's so," replied Mrs. Stout; "we've been advertised worse'n a circus or soap; let's hide our bright and shinin' light under a basket for awhile."
After the ladies had gone Mrs. Tweedie had only time to scold Fanny, give Dora some instructions about dinner, tell Ezra that "If you had a woman's club on your hands you would have been insane weeks ago," which Ezra thought very likely, when the Reverend Elijah Flint was announced. Despite the trials of the previous twenty-four hours, Mrs. Tweedie assumed a humble look as she entered the parlour and greeted her solemn-visaged pastor.