“If you take my advice,” said Temperance, making her needle whistle through the cotton. “If you take my advice you’ll keep the preacher away from that mess. He’s that soft-hearted that he’s liable to be taken in—besides, it’s more likely a woman’s help she needs. Laws, I ofting think of Ann, all alone. Why don’t you go yourself, Vashti?”
“I have thought of it for a couple of months,” said Vashti. “It’s nearly a year old now, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Winder, proceeding to give data. “But sakes! Why couldn’t she stay over Brixton way without coming into our parish with her brat?”
“They have souls,” said Vashti, suddenly drawing the mantle of the preacher’s wife about her.
“Well, one of ’em shouldn’t have,” said Mrs. Ranger irately. “Sakes, I don’t know what girls is coming to!”
“I expect she didn’t have much chance,” said Temperance deprecatingly.
“That’s no excuse for sin,” said Vashti austerely.
Temperance sniffed audibly. The clock struck five, and a footstep sounded upon the porch of the backdoor.
“Run see who that is,” said Mrs. Winder to Jimmy.