"'Pon my word!" she now exclaimed, facing the room, but still keeping
close to the coffee-pot. "How you all can expect anything but terrible
troubles and awful misfortunes is more than I can understand. The
warning of that comet sent a-flying wild across the heavens is enough
for me."

No one noticed what she said--which certainly seemed to require no
notice; but it never made any difference to Miss Penelope whether her
remarks were warmly or coolly received. After stooping to turn the
coffee-pot round on its trivet she faced the room again.

"Yes, the warning is plenty plain enough for me!" she cooed. "And just
look at the dreadful things that have happened already! Just look at
what came to pass between the time we first heard of that comet early in
the summer, and the time we first saw it early in September. Didn't all
the wasps and flies go blind and die sooner than common, right in the
middle of the hottest weather? Who ever heard of such a thing before?
And look at the fruit crop,--the apple trees, the peach trees, all kind
of fruit trees--and the grape-vines a-bending and a-breaking clear down
to the ground because they can't bear the weight."

"It is probable that the early dying of the wasps and flies may have
had something to do with the fineness of the fruit," said William
Pressley, quite seriously, with formal politeness and a touch of
impatience at the interruption.

Miss Penelope took him up tartly in her softest tone: "Then, William,
may I ask why the people all over the country are calling this year's
vintage 'comet wines'? For that's the way they are marking it, and