“Well now, tell me,” said Mrs. Carpenter, drawing her chair near to Mrs. Vachell’s tea-table. “What is all this about the Hattons, do you know?”
“I haven’t heard anything,” said Mrs. Vachell. “What have they, or rather, what has she, been doing?”
“Haven’t you heard that he is coming home?”
“Let me see, where was it he went to? Egypt, wasn’t it? I haven’t seen Evangeline for some time.”
“Amy,” Mrs. Carpenter said earnestly, wedging her large face close up to Mrs. Vachell, “tell me now—you know I never repeat things—what did happen then? You know people say all sorts of things, and some of them have really said so much about you that I want to be able to contradict them.”
“You can contradict them all, certainly,” said Mrs. Vachell.
“I may do that from you, may I?”
“No, not from me, from yourself. I don’t know what they have said, but whatever it is, I am sure you can safely say it is untrue.”
“You really had nothing to do with his going to Egypt? I was told to-day, on the very best authority, that you had sent him off because Evangeline—you know those young wives—they can’t bear anyone even to look at their husbands, can they? Do you know, I thought she was quite strange in her manner one evening at our house when he would talk to me all the time about India. We said something about the heat, and I remember I thought to myself, ‘Yes, my dear boy, you would find it very hot indeed out there with a wife who looks after you with those eyes!’ Why, half the women at any station would run after him on purpose, if they saw she was jealous.”
“Yes,—women!” said Mrs. Vachell. “How these Christians love one another, don’t they? We are a very united sex when we are running with the hounds to show what the hare can do to please them.”