"She does not attend our church—of course that would make no difference, but—" The minister's wife hesitated, and raised her eyes significantly.
"Her grammar is shocking—she speaks so plainly," said Mrs. Tweedie, her nose in air. "And her manners and dress are—"
"Extraordinary," prompted Mrs. Flint.
"The very word."
"She has, probably, admirable qualities, but—"
"No doubt, except—there's the bell!" And then Mrs. Tweedie added in a whisper, "I would not have this repeated for worlds."
Just then Mrs. Stout entered the room unannounced.
"My dear Mrs. Stout, good morning," said Mrs. Tweedie. "We were just this moment speaking of you."
"Was you now?" smilingly responded Mrs. Stout, as she sat down in the largest chair in the room and began fanning herself with a photograph that she took from a table. "How d'y do, Mis' Flint. I ain't set eyes on you since our Fast Day union meetin'. How's the parson? I heard he was feelin' kinder streaked."