“Aye, it’s a wonderful idea!” asserted Mrs. Jeezer Morris, from her superior position and knowledge.
“Aye, wonderful!” solemnly affirmed the rest.
“I’m thinkin’,” said Betto Griffiths, an undisciplined look in her eyes, “Mrs. Jenkins made it?”
“Mrs. Jenkins! Oh, no!” exclaimed Ariel, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets, “I did it.”
“Ye did!” they all exclaimed, admiringly.
“Mr. Jenkins,” continued Mrs. Parry Wynn, whose husband, the baker, had been standing across the street not more than a half-hour ago laughing over the crimson cat rampant, blazoned on the green field, “Mr. Jenkins, if Mr. Wynn thinks he could afford something like it, would ye be willin’——”
“Aye, gladly,” returned Ariel, “but it’s expensive, Mrs. Wynn.”
“Oh!” chorused the women, in deferential voices.
“But I’m thinkin’,” continued Ariel, “through my connection as a merchant I might be able to obtain the material at less expense an’——”