"What is it, Martha? Do you want me?"
"Ah, I thought you couldn't be far off. You'll oblige me, Maria, by running upstairs, and fetching down my bonnet and mantle. My old gloves will do, and I'll have my fur boa, for the days are turning wonderfully chilly. Yes, Mrs. Gorman Stanley," continued Mrs. Butler, when Miss Peters had disappeared, "I'll soon get at the bottom of that bit of gossip. Are the Bells likely people to keep a close secret to themselves; you tell me that, Mrs. Gorman Stanley? Aren't they all blab, blab, blab? Ah, here comes Maria—and dressed to go out, too, upon my word? Well, miss, I suppose I must humor you! You'll have the decency, however, to remember to turn away your head if we matrons wish to whisper a bit among ourselves. Good-bye, Mrs. Gorman Stanley. I'll look in if I have any news for you this evening."
"Do," said Mrs. Gorman Stanley. "I'm all a-gog to hear. It's no joke to order a handsome dress for a chit of a girl's wedding, and then not wear it after all. I meant to get new curtains for my back parlor, heavy snuff-colored moreen, going a great bargain, but I had to buy the dress instead. Well, you'll let me know the news. Good-bye."
As they were walking down the street to the Bells' house Mrs. Butler turned sharply to her little companion:
"Maria," she said, "you are a perfect fool."
"Well, really, Martha, I—I——"
"For goodness' sake, don't begin to snivel. I hadn't finished my speech. I'm a fool, too. We are both in the same box."
"Oh, no, Martha, you always were——"
"Folly. You needn't roll your eyes at me. Don't flatter. I said we were both fools. I repeat it. We have been hoaxed."
"Hoaxed?" said Miss Maria, with a high staccato note of inquiry.