She nodded.
"The Hewitts," I pressed on, "that give us our library? And that we want to name the park for?"
Yes. It was them.
"Why, my land," I says, "my land—let me tell the ladies."
I rushed in on them, where they were walking 'round the parlor peaceful, each lady looking over her own dress and giving little twitches to it here and there to make the set right.
"The Hewitts," I says, "that we've all wanted to meet for years on end. And now look at us—dressed up in every-day, or not so much so, when we'd like to do them honor."
Mis' Toplady, standing by her wedding dress on the wax form, waved both her arms.
"Ladies!" she says. "S'posing we ain't any of us dressed up. Can't we dress up, I'd like to know? Here's all our best bib and tucker present with us. What's to prevent us putting it on?"
"But the exhibit!" says Mis' Holcomb most into a wail. "The exhibit that they was to pay fifteen cents apiece for?"