give her clothes for a weddin'-present, as if we was poor as the
Freemans. You didn't have any pride. There ain't anybody in this
family ever had any pride but me, an' I have to keep it up, an'
nobody liftin' a finger to help me. Oh, dear!" the old woman quivered
from head to foot. Her face worked as if she was in silent hysterics.

"Don't, Aunt Jane," whispered her nephew--"don't feel so bad. Maybe
it's all for the best. Why, what is the matter with your wrist?"

"I burned it takin' the biscuit out of the oven," she groaned.

"Why, it's an awful burn. Don't you want something on it?"

"No, I don't mind no burns."

Suddenly Mrs. Maxwell moved away from her nephew. She began arranging
the plates on the table. "You go into the parlor," said she sharply,
"an' don't you let 'em know you didn't know about it. You act kind of
easy an' natural when they speak about it. You go right in; tea won't
be ready quite yet. I've got something a little extra to see about."

Francis went into the parlor and greeted the guests, shaking hands
with them rather boyishly and awkwardly. The minister's wife made
room for him on the sofa beside her.

"I suppose you'd like to hear about your cousin's wedding that I went
to this afternoon," said she, with a blandness that had a covert
meaning to the other women, who listened eagerly.

"Yes, I would," replied Francis, with steady gravity.