Mrs. Rowan's impulse had been to kiss the gentle hand that touched hers, but this interruption checked her. Miss Mills went back to her seat, and the catechism began. It was not a pleasant one. More than once the widow thought that "one of the first ladies in Boston" was a very rude and impudent old woman; but for the sake of that sweet face, which seemed to entreat her forbearance, she answered civilly.
The questioning ended. "Now you may go," said Miss Clinton, and, turning her back on Mrs. Rowan, began to talk to her friend.
"O my friend! how can you?" exclaimed Miss Mills reproachfully. "You are so kind, Mrs. Rowan," rising to take leave of her. "I am glad to have seen you."
Mrs. Rowan's face was crimson. What would Dick say to see his mother so treated? and what would Mr. Williams say?
"Why, Alice, she is that John Williams's housekeeper," the old woman said, when Mrs. Rowan had gone.
"And what are you?" was the question which rose almost to the younger lady's indignant lips. But she suppressed it, and only showed her disapproval by sitting silent a moment.
"Did you expect me to get up and make a court courtesy?" pursued Miss Clinton. "Why, I wouldn't do that for you, my dear. And why should I not tell her to go? I had no more to say to her, and I dare say she was glad to get away. If people fell in love with me as they do with you, you soft creature! then I might be sweeter with them; but they hate me, and so I can afford to be sincere. It saves trouble, besides."
"If every one practised that sort of sincerity, we should soon lapse into barbarism," was the quiet reply.
"If you only came here to lecture and scold me, you had better have staid away," the old woman cried, beginning to tremble.