“You ain't lookin' very high,” said her mother.
“No use in strainin' your neck for things out of your own sky,” said Lillian, who had at times a shrewd sort of humor, inherited from her father.
“Harry Edgham would have been a better match for you,” her mother said.
“Lord, I'd a good sight rather have Foster than another woman's leavin's,” replied Lillian. “Then there was Maria, too. It would have been an awful job to dress her, and look out for her.”
“That's so,” said her mother, “and then the two sets of children, too.”
Lillian colored and giggled. “Oh, land, don't talk about children, ma!” said she. “I'm contented as it is. But you ought to have seen that young one to-day.”
“What did Ida wear?” asked Mrs. White.
“She wore her black velvet suit, that she had this winter, and the way she strutted up the aisle was a caution.”
“I don't see how Harry Edgham lives the way he does,” said Mrs. White. “Black velvet costs a lot. Do you s'pose it is silk velvet?”
“You bet.”