"She lost three sewing-machines once before," said Mrs. Harrison, "and a piano she'd bought by installments that was the joy and pride of her life. They were seized a week after she married him three years ago to settle debts he had contracted before he knew her."
Mr. Cannon came into the conversation. Nor was he in the least the jollying, bandying person the younger ladies were familiar with.
"Which is proof of where he on his part puts us, too," murmured Maud.
"You women, Mrs. Harrison, so seldom take the protection offered you in the ante-nuptial or marriage settlement provisions. We've just been remarking on it among ourselves, the rich women seldom, the working-woman never."
Mrs. Harrison played with the spoon in her saucer, as if considering before answering. She had been holding her cup now for some time.
"Put it down," said Mr. Welling from his stand near the fender, persuasively; "you haven't tasted it."
"No more have you yours," retorted his hostess, "nor Selina, nor Maud, nor Culpepper nor Juliette—I don't like tea myself, and I don't believe one of the rest of you do."
There was relaxation at this, and general confession, and a setting down of cups.
"Tea as a function is more popular than tea as a beverage," from Mr. Welling, gallantly.