There was a rap at the door, and Mrs. Bird, Mrs. Beagle, and Mrs. Snipes came in. These three ladies were inseparable. They visited together, and warred, as we have seen, upon the "up-street aristocracy" together. Mrs. Bird, who was, as I have stated, a great sozzle about home, was now decked out with as many ribbons and streamers as a Maypole. She had mounted on her back a most tremendous bustle, and she bowed, and bobbed, and twitched about, as she saluted my wife, with all the airs and friskiness of a young girl. Mrs. Beagle was quite reserved.
"Why, bless you, Mrs. ——, how cold 'tis!" said Mrs. Bird. "My dear husband couldn't hardly think of lettin' me go out. Bird is so particular, and allers so scared for fear'd sunthin' will happen to me. 'Wife,' said Bird to me one day—'wife,' sez he, 'you musn't go out with them are thin shoes on—'t'il be the death on you,' sez he. 'O, shaw!' sez I. 'Bird, you're allers bor'ring trouble.' 'No, I ain't, nother,' sez he. 'Byme-by, you'll get a mortal sickness in your lungs, and it'll run you inter the inflammation, and then you're gone.' But I allers laughs at Bird when he talks so. Why, of all things," continued Mrs. Bird, looking round, if here ain't Mrs. Brown. "Are you well, Aunt Sonora, to-day?"
"Pretty sorter," answered Mrs. Brown.
"Hain't had the rheumatiz, nor shakin' ager, nor any of that buzzing in your head?"
"None to speak on."
"How is your old man, Mrs. Brown?"
"Well, he's gruntin' some—but so's to be about."
"Did he catch that feller who ow'd him and run'd away?"
"Not's I ever heerd on," replied Mrs. Brown.
"Why, what a nice caliker you're got on, Mrs. Brown; was it one-and-three or one-and-six?"