about Mary Cary. Lizzie Pryor has led it, and I came here this morning
to tell her so. The people in Yorkburg are like all other people. They
pat the fat shoulder, and shake the full hand, and eat of the bounty,
and then, when some jealous-minded, squint-eyed Christian, so-called,
starts questions and speculations, everybody repeats them and some try
to answer."

"But why are you talking to us like this, Miss Gibbie? We are Mary's
friends and oughtn't to be taken to task for what we haven't done and
don't approve of," said Mrs. Corbin. "We--"

"Then if you are Mary's friends you will tell other people what I am
telling you. You will cut short all this twaddle about her great wealth
and Western ways and numberless beaux. It's the last that sticks so in
Puss Jenkins's throat. Puss never had a beau herself, and she can't get
reconciled to Mary's many."

"Oh, she did have one." Mrs. Moon spoke for the first time since Mrs.
Pryor left. "Don't you remember Mr. Thoroughgood?"

"He never courted her. He told me so himself. He thought over it and
prayed over it, and at last decided he'd do it, but he never did. He
bought her a box of candy for which he paid sixty cents--told me that,
too--and went to the house prepared to speak the word. I remember the
night very well. He tiptoed up the front steps and stood on the porch
where he could hear voices in the parlor. Puss and her mother were
talking, and 'Mercy on me,' he said, 'I never had such a narrow escape
in all my life. She was scolding her mother, quarreling with her,
lecturing her for something. I tell you I tiptoed down in a hurry.'"