Mrs. Webb, biting a strand of cotton held at arm's-length from the
spool, nodded, then threaded her needle.

"Yes, we were talking about her work here in Yorkburg, and Mrs. Pryor
was telling us she had engaged the /General Maury/ to take the
orphan children to Wayne Beach on the fourteenth, and--"

"Lizzie wanted to know where the money was coming from? For a Christian
woman, Lizzie, your curiosity in money matters is unrighteous. If money
is honestly come by, what business is it of ours how it is spent?"

"Why doesn't she tell how it is come by?" Mrs. Pryor's voice was high
and sharp. "Mary Cary has been back in Yorkburg seven months--"

"Seven months and two weeks," corrected Mrs. Tate, pointing her
unthreaded needle at Mrs. Pryor.

"She was a penniless orphan until thirteen"--the interruption was
ignored--"and, so far as we've heard, she has never had a fortune left
her, and yet after nine years' absence she comes back, has a beautiful
home, a horse, and a runabout, keeps three servants, gives to
everything, spends freely, and never tells how she gets the money."

"And that's something good people will never forgive, will they,
Lizzie?"

Miss Gibbie Gault leaned forward and tapped the table on which Mrs.
Pryor's hands were resting with the tip of the turkey-wing fan. "Though
one feeds the hungry and clothes the naked, brings cleanliness out of