“For men I care not,” said Mrs. Parsons. “But when my own sister upbraids me in a public place—” The lady’s voice ceased, and she raised her mournful eyes. It seemed she had encountered her unnatural relative at the post-office. Everybody had a tale similar. Siskiyou had denounced their humane act.
“Let them act ugly,” said Mrs. Slocum. “We will not swerve.”
“I sent roses this morning,” said Mrs. Parsons.
“Did you, dear?” said Mrs. Day. “My lilies shall go this afternoon.”
“Here is a letter from the prisoner,” said Amanda, producing the treasure; and they huddled to hear it. It was very affecting. It mentioned the violets blooming beside the hard couch, and spoke of prayer.
“He had lovely hair,” said Mrs. Slocum.
“So brown!” said Mrs. Day.
“Black, my dear, and curly.”
“Light brown. I was a good deal closer, Susan—”