"Brown fiddlestick! Hold your head steady. Well—I never! The vanity of some folk! The apings of some people. Oh, I haven't a word to say if you like to make a show of yourself. I respect my years. I live up to them. Some people, I won't name who—don't."
"Had I better take off the bonnet, Martha? I thought these very large chrysanthemums—I chose them on purpose—"
"Hideous—you're a perfect fright! Look at me. Is there anything to laugh at in my velvet bonnet? Does it poke itself on the back of my head? And does it deck itself in pink and yellow?"
"It looks funereal, Martha, it's all black."
"Funereal! It looks suitable. Come on, or we'll be late."
The two ladies left the house. They walked quickly in the early morning light. Presently, they were joined by Mrs. Gorman Stanley. She was completely clothed in bridal garments of yellow. Her robe was yellow satin, her bonnet was to match, with blue forget-me-nots cozily nestling in its folds. Mrs. Morris joined the group in terra-cotta cashmere, with a cream lace bonnet. Round her face and mouth she had enveloped a black woollen shawl, but this was to be discarded presently.
As the ladies walked to the church they were joined by several more Beatricites, and when at last they found themselves under the shadow of the old tower, and in the shelter of the ancient porch, they were quite a goodly company.
"We'll just fill the front seats comfortably," said Mrs. Butler. "When Mrs. Bell and her Hartites arrive they'll have to go behind."
"But how are we to get in?" again questioned Miss Maria.
"Oh, I'll manage that. I have it all arranged. I spoke to Hunt yesterday."