Mrs. Meadowsweet's cheeks were slightly flushed, and her good-humored
eyes were shining with contentment and satisfaction.
"Oh, there's Mrs. Morris!" she said to Beatrice. "I'd better tell her
where we are going. She's always so interested in the Manor folks.
Davis, stop the cab a minute! Call to him, Bee. Da-vis!"
The cap stopped, and Mrs. Morris, eager and bustling, drew nigh.
"How are you, dear?" she said. "How do you do, Beatrice? Isn't it bad
for you, dear love," turning again to the elder lady, "to have the
window of the fly open? Although it is summer, and the doctor makes a
fuss about the thermometer being over eighty in the shade, I know for a
positive fact that the wind is east, and very treacherous."
"I don't take cold easily, Jessie," replied Mrs. Meadowsweet. "No, I
prefer not to have the windows up, poor Bee would be over hot. We must
think of the young things, mustn't we, Jessie? Well, you'll wonder why I
am in my best toggery! Bee and I are off to the Manor, no less, I assure
you. And to dinner, too! There's news for you."
"Well, I'm sure!" responded Mrs. Morris. Envy was in every tone of her
voice, and on every line of her face. As usual, when excited, she found
her voice, which came out quite thin and sharp. "Well, I'm sure," she
repeated.
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