“What then does she know?”
“Oh she knows I know.”
“Well, we know what Mrs. Peck knows,” one of the ladies of the group observed to me with an air of privilege.
“Well, you wouldn’t know if I hadn’t told you—from the way she acts,” said our friend with a laugh of small charm.
“She’s going out to a gentleman who lives over there—he’s waiting there to marry her,” the other lady went on, in the tone of authentic information. I remember that her name was Mrs. Gotch and that her mouth looked always as if she were whistling.
“Oh he knows—I’ve told him,” said Mrs. Peck.
“Well, I presume every one knows,” Mrs. Gotch contributed.
“Dear madam, is it every one’s business?” I asked.
“Why, don’t you think it’s a peculiar way to act?”—and Mrs. Gotch was evidently surprised at my little protest.
“Why it’s right there—straight in front of you, like a play at the theatre—as if you had paid to see it,” said Mrs. Peck. “If you don’t call it public!”