herself." In spite of her smiling face, there was a slight doubt and
hesitancy in her manner.

Mrs. Maxwell's old face suddenly paled, and at the same time grew
alert. Her black eyes, on Mrs. Wheeler's face, were sharply bright.

"Mebbe I have, an' mebbe I ain't," said she, and she smiled too.

"Well," said the minister's wife, "I told Flora that her mother must
be a brave woman to invite company to tea the afternoon her daughter
was married, and I thought we all ought to appreciate it."

The other women gasped. Mrs. Maxwell's face was yellow-white in its
framework of curls; there was a curious noise in her throat, like a
premonitory click of a clock before striking.

"Well," said she, "Flora 'd had this day set for the weddin' for six
months. When her uncle died, we talked a little about puttin' of it
off, but she thought 'twas a bad sign. So it seemed best for her to
get married without any fuss at all about it. An' I thought if I had
a little company to tea, it would do as well as a weddin'."

Mrs. Maxwell's old black eyes travelled slowly and unflinchingly
around the company, resting on each in turn as if she had with each a
bout of single combat. The other women's eyes were full of scared
questionings as they met hers.

"They got off in the three-o'clock train," remarked the minister's
wife, trying to speak easily.