“Oh, Patty, how kin you face the poor gal arter what you done last night?” whimpered the spinster, who had read it in the papers with silent disapprobation.
“I can face anybody!” Patty cried serenely, in her exuberant joy.
“Mayn’t I go along, Patty, to chapyrone you one more time?”
“No, you may not. I’m going with the grand Mr. Hamilton, that jilted Eva, and I want a good chance alone with him to cut her out in his heart. So go along to your room and stay there, you old idiot!”
Miss Tabby obeyed the rude command, going at once to her room, but only staying long enough to don her false frizette and best clothes. Arrayed in this splendor, she set forth at a rapid walk, all her green plumes nodding wildly in the nipping wind, while she said to herself mutinously:
“If I can’t ride in the carriage with her, I reckon I kin walk behind it. I ain’t lost the use o’ my laigs yit. But if she’s a-going to Eva’s house, I’m a-going, too, for I ain’t mistreated the chile as bad as she done, anyway, an’ I got as good a right visitin’ with her as she has!”
Puffing like a steam engine, her feathers flying like an Indian’s in a war dance, the old maid at last reached Mr. Somerville’s stately residence, and sank exhausted on the white marble steps.
“Whew! I’m about blowed!” she panted, adding curiously:
“Two carriages waitin’ before the door, like a fun’ral, or a wedding! There ain’t nobody dead, I reckon, and Pat has clar broke up the wedding, the spiteful thing! ’Clar to goodness, I’m sorry now ’at I ever went agin’ poor little Eva! Wonder if they is entertainin’ company to-day? Maybe I’m sort o’ pushing myself, but I has as good right to an invite as Patty, an’ I mean to stan’ my groun’ if the gent at the door will let me go in!”
Apparently the “gent” was just a little flustrated, for he did not oppose her entrance when she said to him humbly: