"Ah, here comes the tea," exclaimed Mrs. Meadowsweet. "Bring the table
over here, Jane. Now this is what I call cozy. Jane, you might ask cook
to send up some buttered toast, and a little more cream. Yes, Mrs.
Butler, I beg your pardon."

"I was remarking that you had a visitor," repeated Mrs. Butler.

"Ah, so I had. Mrs. Bertram called on me."

"And why shouldn't she call on you, dear?" suddenly whispered
Mrs. Morris. "Aren't you quite as good as she is when all's said and
done? Yes, dear, I'll have some of your delicious tea. Such a treat!
Some more cream? Thank you, yes; I'll help myself. Why shouldn't Mrs.
Bertram call on Mrs. Meadowsweet? That's what I say, ladies," continued
Mrs. Morris, looking over the top of her cup of tea in a decidedly
fight-me-if-you-dare manner.

"Nobody said she shouldn't call," answered Mrs. Butler. "Maria, you'll
oblige me by going into the hall and fetching my wrap. There's rather a
chill from this window--and the weather is very inclement for the time
of year. No, thank you, Mrs. Morris, I wouldn't take your seat for the
world. As you justly remark, why shouldn't Mrs Bertram call on our good
friend here? And, for that matter, why shouldn't she cross the road, and
leave her card on _you_, Mrs. Morris?"

Mrs. Morris was here taken with such a fit of bronchial coughing and
choking that she could make no response. Miss Peters rolled her eyes at
her sister in a manner which plainly said, "You had her there, Martha,"
and poor Mrs. Meadowsweet began nervously to wish that she had not been