"Mine, too," said the little woman, then she made haste to qualify her remark, "but Mrs. Prymmer is a very thoughtful woman; only yesterday she brought over two jars of strawberry preserves."
Mr. Huntington suppressed a slight sneer as he thought of the absent Mrs. Prymmer, and, wearily trying to exhibit a little interest in the subject in order to gratify his housekeeper, asked," What is the daughter-in-law like?"
"She is like a wax doll," said Mrs. Negus, promptly, "those big ones you see in shop windows, with yellow hair and pink cheeks. I have only seen her for a minute, though. I ran in before church this evening, and Mrs. Prymmer let me take a peep at her as she sat in the parlour playing on the organ to her husband. I couldn't see her eyes. I guess they are blue— Dear me, this is very frivolous conversation for an old lady on Sabbath Day. Did you have a good service out at Indian Gardens this evening?"
"Yes, very good."
"We had a very poor preacher in your place. I heard some of the people grumbling because you were away."
The cloud came back to his brow. "If they knew," he said, passionately, "if they knew—"
She jumped to her small feet. "I think I'll run away. You ought to go to bed. I'll have breakfast a little later in the morning. You'll think about calling on Mrs. Prymmer?"
"No, not think about it, I'll do it. It is only those social, prattling visits I object to. I am glad to please you,—you, who have been more like a true mother than my—than many mothers are."
"Ah, you have a kind heart," she said, slowly shaking her head, "a good, kind heart. You are a comfort to me, a great comfort, and I know it will also please you to do good to Mrs. Prymmer. She has always been so sore about that Mr. Lancaster,—and to think that her son should go and marry his daughter."
At the mention of Mr. Lancaster's name a curious gleam shot across Mr. Huntington's brown eyes. "What Mr. Lancaster do you mean?"