Chapter II

THE VIEWS OF MISS GIBBIE

Miss Gibbie's carriage was at the gate, and before the others know what
to say she conducted Mrs. Pryor out of the room, put her in the carriage
herself, and gave the order to Jackson to drive her home. "Tell Maria to
telephone me here in half an hour how William is," she called, "and if
you need me let me know," then went back into the house where all were
talking at once.

"Do you reckon he is really ill, Miss Gibbie?" inquired Mrs. Webb, and
"he's so uncomplaining they might not know he was ill," said Mrs.
Moon, while Mrs. Tazewell, full of sympathy, thought they ought to
adjourn and go see if there was not something they could do.

"Which of those questions do you want me to answer first?" Miss
Gibbie, taking Mrs. Pryor's chair, waved the turkey-wing fan back and
forth, but with fingers not so firm as they had been before the message
came, and as she spoke the room became quiet again.

"Do I hope William Pryor is seriously ill?" she began, her keen gray
eyes dim with something rarely seen in them. "Do I hope William is
going to die? I do. For thirty-nine years he has been the husband of
Lizzie Pryor, and he has earned his reward. I don't believe in a
golden-harp heaven. Not being musical, William and I wouldn't know what
to do with a harp. I believe in a heaven where we get away from some