"Yes, Homer seen the funeral; 'twas a most terrible big one, and nothing would do Homer but he must follow on with it to the cemetery. It do seem hard to think how one's son'll go on doing sich things. The idea!" Mrs. Wilson concluded between a sniff and a snort.
"Yes," said Mrs. Deans, sympathetically. "Well, there's one good thing, no one would hold you responsible for Homer's doings now. I tell you when men gets his age, they're bound to go their own ways." Then abruptly, "I was at Mrs. Holder's to-day." Here Mrs. Deans looked full at Mrs. Wilson.
"You was?" said her hostess. "You was? Who did you see?"
"I seen old Mrs. Holder and the young one; it's named——"
"What?" asked Mrs. Wilson, breathlessly.
"Well, you'd never guess," said Mrs. Deans, maliciously prolonging her hostess' agony. "You'd never guess. I'm sure I never suspicioned she'd call it that. I suppose it's fitting, most fitting, I should say—but there! What's the odds what it's called? I wouldn't let it worry me, no matter what she called it."
"What is its name, Jane?" asked Mrs. Wilson, with such directness that Mrs. Deans could not disregard it.
"My," answered she, "My—short for Myron."
"Well, Jane," gasped Mrs. Wilson, in relief, and affecting that her exclamation was one of surprise; "well, it beats all!"
Mrs. Deans felt satisfied on one point: Mrs. Wilson had certainly had grave fears in regard to the naming of the child—too grave to be causeless, Mrs. Deans assured herself. Well, Mrs. Deans had never thought much of Homer Wilson—he was altogether too conceited, and he never spoke in revival meeting any more than that once; and he was too sure of himself, and too independent. So it was Homer Wilson, then! Why hadn't he married her? Why hadn't Myron told? Now, if she—Mrs. Deans—could only expose the two of them, how meritorious that would be! A hazy plan to attack Homer on the question flitted through her brain; to ask him suddenly, when he was unprepared, point-blank—would that startle him into a confession or a betrayal of the truth in spite of himself?