“Well, I wonder if she is a proud, stuck up piece,” said Mrs. Jones.
“I shouldn’t think she would be,” said Susan, “for there aint a more sociabler woman in the neighborhood than Miss Johnson. So if she’s at all like her sister I think we shall like her.”
“I wonder how old she is,” said Stephen, who was just verging toward the close of his twenty-first year.
“The squire called her eighteen,” said Mr. Jones, giving a wink to his wife, as much as to say, that’s about the right age for Stephen.
“I wonder if she is handsome,” said Susan, who was somewhat vain of her own looks, and having been a sort of reigning belle in Pond village for some time, felt a little alarm at the idea of a rival.
“I dare be bound she’s handsome,” said Mrs. Jones, “if she’s sister to Miss Johnson; for where’ll you find a handsomer woman than Miss Johnson, go the town through?”
After supper, Stephen went down to Mr. Robinson’s store, and told the news to young Charles Robinson and all the young fellows who were gathered there for a game at quoits and a ring at wrestling. And Susan went directly over to Mr. Bean’s and told Patty, and Patty went round to the Widow Davis’ and told Sally, and before nine o’clock the matter was pretty well understood in about every house in the village.
At the close of the fourth day, a little before sunset, a chaise was seen to drive up to Squire Johnson’s door. Of course the eyes of the whole village were turned in that direction. Sally Davis, who was just coming in from milking, set her pail down on the grass by the side of the road as soon as the chaise came in sight, and watched it till it reached the squire’s door, and the gentleman and lady had got out and gone into the house. Patty Bean was doing up the ironing that afternoon, and she had just taken a hot iron from the fire as the chaise passed the door, and she ran with it in her hand and stood on the door steps till the whole ceremony of alighting, greeting, and entering the house, was over. Old Mrs. Bean stood with her head out of the window, her iron-bowed spectacles resting upon the top of her forehead, her shriveled hand placed across her eyebrows to defend her red eyes from the rays of the setting sun, and her skinny chin protruding about three inches in advance of a couple of stubs of teeth, which her open mouth exposed fairly to view.
“Seems to me they are dreadful loving,” said old Mrs. Bean, as she saw Mrs. Johnson descend the steps and welcome her sister with a kiss.
“La me, if there isn’t the squire kissing of her tu,” said Patty; “well, I declare, I would a waited till I got into the house, I’ll die if I wouldn’t. It looks so vulgar to be kissing afore folks, and out doors tu; I should think Squire Johnson would be ashamed of himself.”