“You can stand up for her all you want to, Francis Arms,” cried his aunt. “It's nothin' more than I ought to expect. What do you s'pose I'm goin' to do? Here I am with all these folks to tea an' Flora gone. She might have waited till to-morrow. Here they are all pryin' an' suspectin'. But they shan't know if I die for it. They shan't know that good-for-nothin' girl went off an' got married unbeknown to me. They've had enough to crow over because we didn't get Thomas Maxwell's money; they shan't have this nohow. You'll have to lend me some money, an' I'm goin' to Boston to-morrow an' I'm goin' to buy a silk dress for Flora an' get it made, so she can go out bride when she comes home; an' they've got to come here an' board. I might jest as well have the board-money as them Freemans, an' folks shan't think we ain't on good terms. Can you let me have some money to-morrow mornin'?”
“Of course I can, Aunt Jane,” said Francis soothingly. “I'll make Flora a wedding-present of it.”
“I don't want it for a weddin'-present. I'll pay you back some time. If you're goin' to give her a weddin'-present, I'd rather you'd give her somethin' silver that she can show. I ain't goin' to have you give her clothes for a weddin'-present, as if we was poor as the Freemans. You didn't have any pride. There ain't anybody in this family ever had any pride but me, an' I have to keep it up, an' nobody liftin' a finger to help me. Oh, dear!” the old woman quivered from head to foot. Her face worked as if she was in silent hysterics.
“Don't, Aunt Jane,” whispered her nephew—“don't feel so bad. Maybe it's all for the best. Why, what is the matter with your wrist?”
“I burned it takin' the biscuit out of the oven,” she groaned.
“Why, it's an awful burn. Don't you want something on it?”
“No, I don't mind no burns.”
Suddenly Mrs. Maxwell moved away from her nephew. She began arranging the plates on the table. “You go into the parlor,” said she sharply, “an' don't you let 'em know you didn't know about it. You act kind of easy an' natural when they speak about it. You go right in; tea won't be ready quite yet. I've got something a little extra to see about.”
Francis went into the parlor and greeted the guests, shaking hands with them rather boyishly and awkwardly. The minister's wife made room for him on the sofa beside her.
“I suppose you'd like to hear about your cousin's wedding that I went to this afternoon,” said she, with a blandness that had a covert meaning to the other women, who listened eagerly.