Considering how very particular—not to say fussy—the lady had hitherto been concerning that hat she seemed surprisingly indifferent to the position of the bow.
“No doubt,” she said, carelessly. “Arrange it as you think best, Miss Clark.... Yes, Miss Townsend seems to be devoted to art at present—or, at least, to an artist. Ha, ha! I know nothing of it, of course, but I have heard such a rumor.”
Abbie Makepeace, who was a little deaf although she would never admit it, put in a word.
“You can’t put too much dependence on what Maria Bloomer says,” she declared. “She’ll say anything that comes into her head. All them Bloomers are alike that way.”
Their patron regarded her coldly. “I said ‘rumor,’ not Bloomer,” she corrected.
“Oh! Yes, yes, I see. One of Seth Payne’s roomers, was it? He’s got a houseful of ’em this summer, so they tell me. Why, there’s a couple there from somewheres out West—Milwaukee—or Missouri, or somewheres; begins with a M, anyway. They’re awful queer folks. Take their meals at Emeline Ryder’s and Emeline says she never had such cranky mealers at her table, before nor since. Why, one day, so she says, the man—I do wish I could remember his name—found fault with the beefsteak they had for dinner; said ’twas too tough to eat. Now, accordin’ to Emeline ’twas as good top of the round steak as she could buy out of the butcher cart, and she’d pounded it with the potato masher for half an hour before she put it in the fryin’ pan. She lost her patience and says she: ‘Now, look here, Mr. ——’. Oh, dear, dear! What is that man’s name? Funny I can’t remember it. What is it, Reliance? Do tell me, for mercy sakes!”
Reliance could not remember, either, but she suggested various names, none of which was exactly right. Mrs. Wheeler departed in disgust before the matter was settled. Miss Makepeace commented upon the manner of her exit.
“What made her switch out that way?” she inquired, in surprise. “Acted as if she was out of sorts about somethin’, seemed to me. Don’t you suppose she liked the hat, Reliance?”
Reliance smiled. “It wasn’t the hat that brought her here,” she observed. “That woman was fishin’, Abbie.”
“Fishin’! What are you talkin’ about? Fishin’ for what?”