"I didn't know Miss Fortune's tallow was ever anything but the hardest," said Sarah Lowndes.
"You had better not let your aunt know you've told on her,
Ellen," remarked Mary Lawson; "she won't thank you."
"Had she a good lot of taller to make up?" inquired the mother, preparing to cut her bees'-wax.
"I don't know, Ma'am; she had a big kettle, but I don't know how full it was."
"You may as well send a good piece, Ma, while you are about it," said the daughter "and ask her to let us have a piece of her sage cheese, will you?"
"Is it worth while to weigh it?" whispered Mrs. Lowndes.
Her daughter answered in the same tone, and Miss Mary joining them, a conversation of some length went on over the bees'- wax, which Ellen could not hear. The tones of the speakers became lower and lower; till at length her own name and an incautious sentence were spoken more distinctly, and reached her.
"Shouldn't you think Miss Fortune might put a black ribbon at least on her bonnet?"
"Anybody but her would."
"Hush!" They whispered again under breath.