"Don't you think it's dreadful close here?" said Mrs. Lowe.

"Yes, I think it is," assented the minister's wife.

"I think it would be a good plan to open the door a little ways,"
said Mrs. Lowe, and she opened it cautiously.

Still they could distinguish nothing from the hum of voices out in
the kitchen.

Mrs. Maxwell was in reality speaking low lest they should hear,
although she was clutching her nephew's arm hard, and the veins in
her thin temples and her throat were swelling purple. When he had
entered she had sprung at him. "Did you hear about it? I want to know
if you knew about it," said she, grasping his arm with her wiry
fingers, as if she were trying to wreak her anger on him.

"Knew about what?" said Francis wonderingly. "What is the matter,
Aunt Jane?"

"Did you know Flora went to the minister's and got married this
afternoon?"

"No," said Francis slowly, "I didn't; but I knew she would, well
enough."

"Did Flora tell you?"

"No, she didn't tell me, but I knew she wouldn't do anything else."