"Quite well, thank you," replied Mrs. Flint, rather coldly.
Mrs. Stout was the wife of Peter Stout, grocer, and the mother of three boys. Though her grammar, manners, and dress did not reach to Mrs. Tweedie's lofty ideals, she had many friends in Manville among those who did not pretend to be more than they were. Her family—of course she had a father and mother, but her grandfathers and grandmothers—no one had ever taken the pains to draw the likeness of a tree and write on its naked branches the names of her ancestors. Despite the lack of grandfathers and grandmothers, she had a large measure of common sense, and a big heart.
"We don't seem to be crowded here," remarked Mrs. Stout, after a moment's pause. "Anybody else comin'?"
"We hope so, but it is early yet, you know, only half-past ten," explained Mrs. Tweedie.
"Early? Good land!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout. "I've been up these five hours and done all my work. Oh, there was somethin' I wanted to ask perticler. Is Lizzie Sawyer goin' to join?"
"Yes," replied Mrs. Tweedie, and wondered what was coming next.
"Well," said Mrs. Stout, confidentially, "the reason I wanted to know was that she and I don't get along very well together, but there, I guess we can manage somehow to keep from clashin'."
Mrs. Tweedie saw rough weather ahead, and proceeded to pour oil upon the waters before the storm broke.
"Miss Sawyer was one of the first asked to join," she replied. "She is an exceptionally well-educated woman, and has signified her willingness to read several papers on vital topics before the club when we are ready for such work."
"Papers? Newspapers?" Mrs. Stout asked, with a puzzled look.