“Thank you, Billy,” returned the lawyer, with mock-tenderness. “Now, Mrs. Munger, out with it!”
“You'll have to tell him sooner or later, Mrs. Munger!” said Mrs. Gerrish, with overweening pleasure in her acquaintance with both of these superior people. “He'll get it out of you anyway.” Her husband looked at her, and she fell silent.
Mrs. Munger swept her with a tolerant smile as she looked up at Putney. “Why, it's really Miss Kilburn's affair,” she began; and she laid the case before the lawyer with a fulness that made Annie wince.
Putney took a piece of tobacco from his pocket, and tore off a morsel with his teeth. “Excuse me, Annie! It's a beastly habit. But it's saved me from something worse. You don't know what I've been; but anybody in Hatboro' can tell you. I made my shame so public that it's no use trying to blink the past. You don't have to be a hypocrite in a place where everybody's seen you in the gutter; that's the only advantage I've got over my fellow-citizens, and of course I abuse it; that's nature, you know. When I began to pull up I found that tobacco helped me; I smoked and chewed both; now I only chew. Well,” he said, dropping the pathetic simplicity with which he had spoken, and turning with a fierce jocularity from the shocked and pitying look in Annie's face to Mrs. Munger, “what do you propose to do? Brother Peck's head seems to be pretty level, in the abstract.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Munger, willing to put the case impartially; “and I should be perfectly willing to drop the invited dance and supper, if it was thought best, though I must say I don't at all agree with Mr. Peck in principle. I don't see what would become of society.”
“You ought to be in politics, Mrs. Munger,” said Putney. “Your readiness to sacrifice principle to expediency shows what a reform will be wrought when you ladies get the suffrage. What does Brother Gerrish think?”
“No, no,” said Mrs. Munger. “We want an impartial opinion.”
“I always think as Brother Gerrish thinks,” said Putney. “I guess you better give up the fandango; hey, Billy?”
“No, sir; no, Mr. Putney,” answered the merchant nervously. “I can't agree with you. And I will tell you why, sir.”
He gave his reasons, with some abatement of pomp and detail, and with the tremulous eagerness of a solemn man who expects a sarcastic rejoinder. “It would be a bad precedent. This town is full now of a class of persons who are using every opportunity to—to abuse their privileges. And this would be simply adding fuel to the flame.”