"All coming down," said the dressmaker, "crashing and falling."
"I'd rather see a circus," declared Mrs. Grumble.
"Would you now?" asked Miss Beal, and her fingers ran in and out, in and out, faster than ever, "would you, now? Well, then . . . there's a fair at Milford this blessed afternoon."
"Would you go along?" asked Mrs. Grumble.
"Glory," said Miss Beal.
"I was going anyhow," said Mrs. Grumble.
Then Miss Beal began to giggle. "Well, I declare," she remarked, "I feel that young."
"Go away," said Mrs. Grumble; "to hear you talk . . ." She was in the best of humor.
"All the young folks will be there," said Miss Beal. "I heard as how
Alec Stove was going with Susie Ploughman. And there's Thomas
Frye . . . and Anna Barly . . ."
"Yes," said Mrs. Grumble.