Miss Titus fanned herself rapidly, and allowed her emphasis to suggest her own opinion of modern taste in dress.
“Of course, Mrs. Pease is slim and ain’t lost all her good looks; but it does seem to me if I was a married woman,” she simpered here a little, for Miss Titus had by no means given up all hope of entering the wedded state, “I should consider my husband’s feelings. I would not go on the street looking below my knees as though I was twelve year old instead of thirty-two.”
“Maybe Mr. Pease likes her to look young,” suggested Agnes.
“Hech! Hech!” clucked Mrs. McCall placidly. “Thirty-twa is not so very auld. Not as we live these days, at any rate.”
“But think of the example she sets her children,” sniffed Miss Titus, bridling.
“Tut, tut! How much d’you expect Margie and Holly Pease is influenced by their mother’s style o’ dress?” exclaimed the housekeeper. “The twa bairns scarce know much about that.”
“I guess that is so,” chimed in Agnes. “And I think she is a pretty woman and dresses nicely. So there!”
“Ah, you young things cannot be expected to think as I do,” smirked Miss Titus.
“I take that as a compliment, my dear,” said the housekeeper comfortably. “And I never expect tae be vairy old until I die. Still and all, I am some older than Agnes.”
“That reminds me,” said Miss Titus, more briskly (though it did not remind her, for she had come into the Corner House for the special purpose of broaching the subject that she now announced), “which of you Kenways is it has found a silver bracelet?”