This impassioned tribute apparently left Thomas dumb. Mrs. Gibson followed up her advantage.
"I suppose you'd rather set in meeting and look at the back of Persis Dale's bonnet than to have a nice wife of your own in the pew beside you."
"Well, since you ask me, Nellie, I would."
"She's made you a laughing-stock. She don't care any more for you—"
"Of course she don't. Why should she? A woman like her."
"Then I wash my hands of you." Mrs. Gibson's voice suggested tears.
"Thank you, Nellie," Thomas returned gratefully, and his sister's receiver slammed into the hook. Thomas followed suit, and last of all, Persis Dale, after assuring herself that she was not likely to hear more, returned the receiver to its place and went to satisfy her friend's curiosity.
"Well?" Mrs. West had emptied her teacup and the soothing effects of the potion showed in her altered voice.
"Yes, Josephine's there," Persis replied to the elliptical inquiry. "But I gathered from something that was let drop that maybe she wouldn't stay long. So if you want a visit with her you'd better not waste any time."