Their minds travelled along, as if they had been yoked together, through
whole fields of suggestive speculation, until the dumb growths of thought
ripened in both their souls into articulate speech, consentingly, as the
movement comes after the long stillness of a Quaker meeting.

Their lips opened at the same moment. "You don't mean"--began Nurse
Byloe, but stopped as she heard Miss Badlam also speaking.

"They need n't drag the pond," she said. "They need n't go beating the
woods as if they were hunting a patridge,--though for that matter Myrtle
Hazard was always more like a patridge than she was like a pullet.
Nothing ever took hold of that girl,--not catechising, nor advising, nor
punishing. It's that dreadful will of hers never was broke. I've always
been afraid that she would turn out a child of wrath. Did y' ever watch
her at meetin' playing with posies and looking round all the time of the
long prayer? That's what I've seen her do many and many a time. I'm
afraid--Oh dear! Miss Byloe, I'm afraid to say--what I'm afraid of. Men
are so wicked, and young girls are full of deceit and so ready to listen
to all sorts of artful creturs that take advantage of their ignorance and
tender years." She wept once more, this time with sobs that seemed
irrepressible.

"Dear suz!" said the nurse, "I won't believe no sech thing as wickedness
about Myrtle Hazard. You mean she's gone an' run off with some
good-for-nothin' man or other? If that ain't what y' mean, what do y'
mean? It can't be so, Miss Badlam: she's one o' my babies. At any rate,
I handled her when she fust come to this village,--and none o' my babies
never did sech a thing. Fifteen year old, and be bringin' a whole family
into disgrace! If she was thirty year old, or five-an'-thirty or more,