“E-es,” said Mrs Dewey, “we’ve heared. An’ we did hear the cause o’ your doin’ it, too.”
“Oh, an’ did you?” said Sally.
Mr Crumpler cleared his throat in an absent-minded kind of way, and looked abstractedly at the fire.
Mrs Frost, after waiting a second or two to see if Mrs Dewey would take the initiative, shot a severe glance in his direction, and then addressed herself to his wife, who, with symptoms of gathering irritation, not unmixed with perturbation, was now laying the table.
“E-es, Mrs Crumpler,” she said, in a loud, clear voice, “me and Mrs Dewey an’ Jenny Weatherby there, us felt it our dooty to step up an’ say a word or two to ye about it. ’Tis terr’ble bad example what you’ve a-been a-givin’ to-day, Mrs Crumpler.”
“Bad example!” gasped Sally, clapping down the tumbler which she had been ostensibly polishing, and whisking round sharply.
“Well, I don’t know what else you can call it,” put in Mrs Dewey indignantly. “I’m sure the men is hard enough to manage at the best o’ times, an’ when a ’ooman like you goes encouragin’ of ’em in their bad ways and wickedness, ’tis a shame and a disgrace, Mrs Crumpler.”
“A public shame, so ’tis,” exclaimed Jenny. Sally turned quite pale.
“Why, what have I done?” she cried.