"Well, I never!" Mrs. Morris suddenly found her voice. "If it isn't that
tiresome Mrs. Butler and Miss Peters. And now I won't be first with the
news after all!"

Mrs. Meadowsweet smiled again.

"There really isn't so much to tell, Jessie. Mrs. Bertram was just
affable like every one else. Ah, and how are you, Mrs. Butler? Now, I do
call this kind and neighborly. Miss Peters, I trust your cough is
better?"

"I'm glad to see you, Mrs. Meadowsweet," said Mrs. Butler, in a slightly
out-of-breath tone.

"My cough is no better," snapped Miss Peters. "Although it's summer, the
wind is due east; east wind always catches me in the throat."

Miss Peters was very small and slim. She wore little iron-gray,
corkscrew curls, and had bright, beady black eyes. Miss Peters was Mrs.
Butler's sister. She was a snappy little body, but rather afraid of Mrs.
Butler, who was more snappy. This fear gave her an unpleasant habit of
rolling her eyes in the direction of Mrs. Butler whenever she spoke. She
rolled them now as she described the way the east wind had treated her
throat.

Mrs. Butler seated herself in an aggressive manner on the edge of the
sofa, and Miss Peters took a chair as close as possible to Mrs. Morris,
who pushed hers away from her.

Each lady was anxious to engross the whole attention of Mrs.