The success of the last hatch was described to her; in fact, all the news of Brenton was asked for and received, and in turn bits of Wayborough gossip were told to the attentive Mrs. Franklin, while Silas's latest sayings were repeated and commented upon.
When Jack and Cynthia had gone out-doors, Miss Betsey drew her chair a little closer to that of Mrs. Franklin.
"My dear—Hester, I think your name is, and Hester it will be my pleasure to call you—my dear Hester, I want to tell you first and foremost that I'm real pleased you should come and be a mother to those children of Nephew John's. They needed you; they needed you badly. And now I'm going to treat you as one of the family, and talk over a little matter with you and John. You've probably heard of Silas Green. He's been courting me these forty years, and now he's got it into his head that he can't be climbing this hill any more of a Sunday night. He wants me to fix the day! I declare, it kind of takes the stiffening right out of me to think of fixing the day after all these years, and I still hold out, as I can't give up my view of the river."
"What are you going to do about it, Aunt Betsey?"
"That's just it, John. Well, I'm going to hold out a little longer, and I think—in fact, I'm pretty sure—that Silas is weakening. You see, it's kind of lonesome for him down there, now his sister's dead that kept house for him, and it is depressing to have nothing much to look at but the Common and the Soldiers' Monument. Yes, I think he's weakening, and I shouldn't wonder if you were to find him here next time you come. But I'll let you know in time to come to the wedding, you may be sure of that. But there's something else I want to speak about."
Here Miss Betsey paused. She folded her hands anew in her lap, and, rocking briskly, waited for some one to speak. The clock on the chimney-shelf ticked comfortably, and Miss Trinkett's canary chirped and hopped about in its cage at the window. Mrs. Franklin looked at her husband.
"And what is that, Aunt Betsey?" said he. "Somehow you have so taken my breath away by hinting that you are going to make Mr. Silas Green happy, after all these years, that I can't take in anything else."
"Ah, now, my dear boy, don't jump too quickly at a conclusion. Things may not be any nearer a settling now than they were forty years ago. It's all a question of view, and men are terribly set in their ways. However, to continue: I want to make each of the children a present. I feel that I'm getting on in life—though I'm not so very old either, but still no one knows what may happen—and I'd rather do things up before I die than have it all a-going on after I'm laid away. I never did think much of wills, anyhow. So I'm going to send 'em each a present from time to time as I feel inclined."
"Nonsense, Aunt Betsey!" said Mr. Franklin. "You are not going to die for many a year yet, and you give the children enough. Keep your money."
"Now you needn't say a word, John. My mind's made up, and it takes a deal to make me change it—it's in the Trinkett blood. And then I like to get the letters the children write to thank me. I must say I'm powerful fond of their letters, 'specially Cynthy's. She does write a beautiful letter. I'll send 'em each in turn, beginning with Edith and ending up with Willy. Of course they can do what they like with the money, but it would be my advice to put it in the savings-bank. It's wonderful how money does roll up in an institution of that kind."