“Very well, then,” said Mrs. Munger, rising.
“After this you can't expect me to have anything to do with the Social Union; you couldn't wish me to, if that's your opinion of my character.”
“I haven't expressed any opinion of your character, Mrs. Munger, if you'll remember, please; and as for the Social Union, I shall have nothing further to do with it myself.”
Annie drew herself up a little higher, and silently waited for her visitor to go.
But Mrs. Munger remained.
“I don't believe Mrs. Putney herself would say what you have said,” she remarked, after an embarrassing moment. “If it were really so I should be willing to make any reparation—to acknowledge it. Will you go with me to Mrs. Putney's? I have my phaeton here, and—”
“I shouldn't dream of going to Mrs. Putney's with you.”
Mrs. Munger urged, with the effect of invincible argument: “I've been down in the village, and I've talked to a good many about it—some of them hadn't heard of it before—and I must say, Miss Kilburn, that people generally take a very different view of it from what you do. They think that my hospitality has been shamefully abused. Mr. Gates said he should think I would have Mr. Putney arrested. But I don't care for all that. What I wish is to prove to you that I am right; and if I can go with you to call on Mrs. Putney, I shall not care what any one else says. Will you come?”
“Certainly not,” cried Annie.
They both stood a moment, and in this moment Dr. Morrell drove up, and dropped his hitching-weight beyond Mrs. Munger's phaeton.