Amanda's long face and her neck were a delicate red.
Mrs. Babcock laughed a loud, sarcastic cackle. “I never—did!” she giggled.
Amanda opened her mouth as if to speak, then she shut it tightly, remembering the offer of the screen-door. She had had so few gifts in her whole life that she had a meek impulse of gratitude even if one were thrust into her hand hard enough to hurt her.
“Well,” Mrs. Babcock continued, still sniggering unpleasantly, “I don't want to hurt your feelin's, Mandy; you needn't color up so; but I can't help laughin'.”
“Laugh, then, if you want to,” said Amanda, with a quick flash. She forgot the screen-door.
Mrs. Babcock drew her face down quickly. “Land, Mandy,” said she, “don't get mad. I didn't mean anything. Anybody knows that old maids is jest as good as them that gets married. I ain't told you what I come over here for. I declare I got so terrible heated up, I couldn't think of nothin'. Look here, Mandy.”
Amanda mended on the stocking foot drawn tightly over her left hand, and did not raise her eyes.
“Mandy, you ain't mad, be you? You know I didn't mean nothin'.”
“I ain't mad,” replied Amanda, in a constrained tone.
“Well, there ain't nothin' to be mad about. Look here, Mandy, how long is it since Mis' Field and Lois went?”