The two friends discussed the pros and cons at considerable length; and finally with some perturbation, she decided to accept the order.
"You'll never tell, Benigna!" she urged. "Solomon would never forgive me, I'm afraid."
"Why of course I won't—you needn't have a moment's fear of it. You give them to me—I'll stop with the carriage you see; and I take them to the Exchange—and he gets them from there."
"It seems like smuggling!" said Mrs. Bankside delightedly. "I always did love to smuggle!"
"They say women have no conscience about laws, don't they?" Mrs.
MacAvelly suggested.
"Why should we?" answered her friend. "We don't make 'em—nor God—nor nature. Why on earth should we respect a set of silly rules made by some men one day and changed by some more the next?"
"Bless us, Polly! Do you talk to Mr. Bankside like that?"
"Indeed I don't!" answered her hostess, holding out a particularly beautiful star-patterned belt to show to advantage. "There are lots of things I don't say to Mr. Bankside—'A man of understanding holdeth his peace' you know—or a woman."
She was a pretty creature, her hair like that of a powdered marchioness, her rosy checks and firm slight figure suggesting a charmer in Dresden china.
Mrs. MacAvelly regarded her admiringly. "'Where there is no wood the fire goeth out; so where there is no tale bearer the strife ceaseth,'" she proudly offered, "I can quote that much myself."