That lady opened it, beaming consciously.
“Well, Susan! We began to think we’d have to go over and see you first.”
Miss Cockerill eyed her hostess curiously. The change in her spiritual condition, however, had apparently wrought no corresponding physical metamorphosis.
“I would have taken it kindly, Martha,” rejoined the visitor. “You an’ Jonas going off so sudden-like kind o’ took my breath away.”
If Miss Cockerill succeeded in dissembling the poignancy of her emotions, Mrs. Lane nevertheless found means to detect it.
“I don’t wonder, Susan!” exclaimed that matron. “It took mine away, too, and I’ve hardly got it back yet. But Jonas would have it so.” With which interesting information she drew her friend toward the sitting room. “Come in and let’s visit a little. I haven’t seen you for such a while and dinner isn’t in a hurry.”
Miss Cockerill looked about her as they went. It seemed to her that events so momentous must leave a mark upon their material surroundings. But the old house looked exactly as she had known it for nearly fifty years. Mrs. Lane observed these glances, and interpreted them in her own way.
“No, he isn’t here,” she smiled. “There’s too much of him to be hid, as he says. He’s gone down to the store to do some trading. But let me tell you all about it. It’s only fair as you should know, being such an old friend of both of ours.” With which the two ladies settled themselves for a long session.
“You see it was this way,” began the bride, examining her apron as if for inspiration. “You know how it always was between Jonas and me.”
“Yes,” admitted Miss Cockerill inscrutably.