"My cough is no better," snapped Miss Peters. "Although it's summer, the
wind is due east; east wind always catches me in the throat."
Miss Peters was very small and slim. She wore little iron-gray,
corkscrew curls, and had bright, beady black eyes. Miss Peters was Mrs.
Butler's sister. She was a snappy little body, but rather afraid of Mrs.
Butler, who was more snappy. This fear gave her an unpleasant habit of
rolling her eyes in the direction of Mrs. Butler whenever she spoke. She
rolled them now as she described the way the east wind had treated her
throat.
Mrs. Butler seated herself in an aggressive manner on the edge of the
sofa, and Miss Peters took a chair as close as possible to Mrs. Morris,
who pushed hers away from her.
Each lady was anxious to engross the whole attention of Mrs.
Meadowsweet, and it was scarcely possible for the good-natured woman not
to feel flattered.
"Now, you'll all have a cup of tea with me," she said. "I know Jane's
getting it, but I'll ring the bell to hasten her. Ah, thank you, Miss
Peters."
Miss Peters had sprung to her feet, seized the bell-rope before any one
could hinder her, and sounded a vigorous peal. Then she rolled her eyes
at Mrs. Butler and sat down.
Mrs. Morris said that when Miss Peters rolled her eyes she invariably
shivered.
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