“We've got to make up our minds,” said Mrs. Babcock sharply. “There ain't time for much thinkin'. The excursion starts a day after to-morrow.”
“I'll have my mind made up to-morrow mornin',” said Amanda. “I've got to think of it over-night, anyhow. I can't start right up an' say I'll go, without a minute to think about it.” Her voice trembled nervously, but decision underlay it.
“I don't see why it ain't time enough if we decide to-morrow morning. I'd ruther like to think of it a little while longer,” said Mrs. Green.
Mrs. Babcock got up. “Well,” said she, “I'll send Adoniram round to-morrow mornin', an' you tell him what you've decided. I guess I shall go whether or no. I've got three men folks to leave, an' it's a good deal more of an undertakin' for me than some, but I ain't easy scart. I b'lieve in goin' once in a while.”
“Well, I'll let you know in the mornin'. I jest want to think of it over-night,” repeated Amanda, with dignified apology.
She went to the door with her guests. Mrs. Babcock spread her green umbrella, and descended the steps with a stiff side-wise motion.
“It is hotter than ever, I do believe,” she groaned.
“Well, now, I was jest thinkin' it was a little grain cooler,” returned Mrs. Green, following in her wake. Her back was meekly bent; her face, shaded by a black sun-hat, was thrust forward with patient persistency. “There, I feel a little breeze now,” she added.
“I guess all the breeze there is, is in your own motion,” retorted Mrs. Babcock. Her green umbrella bobbed energetically. She fanned at every step.
“Mebbe it's your fan,” said the other woman.