Miss Watling rose indignantly from her seat; her stiff black silk gown rustling ominously; her skinny bony hand extended towards the insolent speaker in defiance, her small bugle eyes eating her up with scorn. For a moment her rage was too great for words; her wrath almost choked her. The ferocious glare fell harmlessly upon little plump Letty, who continued to stuff her boy with rich plum cake. She meant to anger Miss Watling, and secretly enjoyed her discomfiture.
"You insignificant, vulgar thing," at length hissed out the offended lady. "How dare you insinuate such vile stories against my character? Who and what are you, that you open your mouth against me? Every one knows the situation you were in, when Mr. Joseph married you, which he did to make an honest woman of you, and by so doing disgraced himself. If I did not respect him and his mother, I would order you out of my house, I would, I would, I would!"
"Don't choke yourself, Nancy, and look so ugly at me. See how you frighten the child. Don't cry, Sammy, eat your cake. That's a good boy," patting his curly head. "Miss Watling won't bite you, child," and Letty faced the now clenched hand and scowling brow of the injured lady with an undaunted stare, and a most provoking smile on her red pouting lips.
"Ignorant creature," gasped Miss Watling, sinking into her chair; "but what can be expected of a dairy-maid? Mrs. Joe Barford, you are beneath contempt."
"Spit out your spite, Nancy. Hard words won't kill a body; I'm used to them. But what's the use of all this fuss? I just told you what folks said of you, and you can't take that, though you speak so hard of others. People will talk—you talk—I talk, and one's just as bad as t'other. In course you culdn't help Gilbert wishing to marry a young maid, instead of an old one. That wor do fault o'yourn; we'd all be young and handsum, if we could."
This allusion to her age and personal defects was the unkindest cut of all. Miss Watling put down her cup of tea, leant back in her chair, and cried hysterically.
Little Sammy looked at her, stopped eating, made a square mouth, and began to roar aloud,
"Take out that squalling brat," screamed Miss Watling, taking the handkerchief from her face; "my head will split."
"Don't be skeer'd, Sammy," said Letty, stooping to pick up the piece of cake the child had dropped in his fright. "The woman's angry with ma; she o'nt lump you."
Miss Watling had wit enough to perceive that the little woman had the best of the battle; that she might as well try to catch a flea in the dark, as subdue the subtle venom of her tongue; so she thought it best to give in; and wiping the tears, or no tears from her eyes, she drew herself up with great dignity, and resumed the duties of the tea table, not, however, without muttering quite audibly to herself.