His "yes" came readily enough, but was unaccompanied with any other word whatever. Mrs. Stoutenburgh's "Do hush!"—was sufficiently energetic though very low.
"How old is Sam?" was the instant question, as if the whisper had referred to him.
"O Sam can't get beyond fourteen till he's twenty," said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing. "I suppose by that time I sha'n't care how old he is."
"I know who thinks he's a handsome fellow!" said Miss Essie shaking her head,—"and that's not you, Mrs. S. I know he's a smart one, for I pinned a blue ribband to his coat once. I wonder if he loves me properly for it.—Faith Derrick, how come you to be here, child?"
"Why because Mrs. Stoutenburgh asked me," said Faith, answering this sudden address with some surprise.
"Wrong!" said Miss Essie. "There's some mistake about it. I've just come from hearing you talked of."
"Whom did you hear, Miss Essie?" said the Squire. "Come—give up your authority."
"I was at Judge Harrison's," said Miss Essie, after a considerative look of her black eyes at the Squire;—"and that's all I am going to tell you, Mr. Stoutenburgh! Mr. Linden, what do you think of the propriety of people's talking about people?"
"I think well of the propriety, when it exists."
"Well what do you think of its existence? Honestly, now. I want to get at your opinion."