"Spiteful toad, I'll never invite her to my house again."
"Nobody wants you," retorted Letty. "Just you try an' see if I be fule enow to come?"
It was well for Letty Barford that much of this speech was lost in the prolonged roarings of Master Sammy whom the belligerent mother could only pacify by promptly leading from the room.
Though loath to leave the table and her tea unfinished, the little woman went out rubbing her hands, and rejoicing in her victory over her ill-natured adversary. Though Letty was not a whit behind Miss Watling in spite and malignity, she had no feelings to be touched, no nerves to be jarred or irritated. People might say what they liked to her; she did not care as long as she could wound them again, and she went out laughing at the skirmish she had had with the heiress.
Directly the coast was clear and peace restored, Mrs. Barford, the elder, took up the conversation. She felt a great liking for Dorothy, and wanted to hear all she could about her.
"I don't believe this story, Mrs. Lane, about Gilbert and the rich lady. People always brag so, when any lucky chance happens to them, and old Rushmere was always a proud man. Can any of you inform me how Dorothy bore the news of her lover's promotion, and of his giving her up?"
"He's not her lover, Mrs. Barford. You labour under a great mistake, when you call him so. Did I not tell you, that it was all broken off before Gilbert went away?"
"I was told," said Mrs. Lane, in a confidential whisper, "that Dolly fainted dead away after she had read the letter."
"Only think of a dairy-maid, an unknown beggar's brat, giving herself the airs of a fine lady," sneered the charitable Nancy.
"She has her feelings, I suppose," said Mrs. Barford. "It must have been a cruel blow, for I know the poor girl loved him with all her heart."