"Oh, yes, indeed," replied Mrs. Tweedie.
"And did many promise to come?"
"Every one on whom I called was delighted, and promised to be here this morning," said Mrs. Tweedie, proudly.
"Very encouraging, I'm sure," murmured Mrs. Flint, as she glanced about the room and noticed that there was dust on the family Bible. Mrs. Tweedie knew it was there. She also knew that Mrs. Flint knew, and was annoyed.
"I have heard that your son William has returned," observed Mrs. Tweedie, hoping to divert Mrs. Flint's mind from the dusty Bible to a subject that could not be wholly agreeable to the minister's wife, if the rumours which had reached Mrs. Tweedie were founded on fact.
"Yes, college life is so trying for a young man at William's critical age. He seems to have broken down completely," sadly replied the fond mamma of one hundred and eighty pounds of beef, bone, and deviltry.
"Indeed! I am very sorry to hear of his condition, but rejoiced to know that I have been incorrectly informed concerning his reason for leaving college," said Mrs. Tweedie. "You must be very happy with him at home again after such a long absence."
"Yes," replied Mrs. Flint, telling one of those weak little lies that we all indulge in when it seems to be really necessary.
Mrs. Tweedie's feminine instinct told her the truth, and she generously dropped William for something more closely related to the club idea.
"Oh, I have invited Mrs. Stout to join. What do you think of her?" she asked, suddenly.