Amid all this change, two alone of those we know remain unaltered and unalterable, true to their traditions. Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Martin, the two ancient gossips, still live side by side, spying and commenting on all that falls within their ken, much as they did on that day when ’Liphalet Hodges took Fred Brent for his first drive behind old Bess. Their windows still open out in the same old way, whence they can watch the happenings of the street. If there has been any change in them at all, it is that they have grown more absorbed and more keen in following and dissecting their neighbours’ affairs.
It is to these two worthies, then, that we wish to reintroduce the reader on an early autumn evening some three months after the events narrated in the last chapter.
Mrs. Martin went to her back fence, which was the nearest point of communication between her and her neighbour. “Mis’ Smith,” she called, and her confederate came hurrying to the door, thimble on and a bit of sewing clutched precariously in her apron, just as she had caught it up when the significant call brought her to the back door.
“Oh, you’re busy as usual, I see,” said Mrs. Martin.
“It ain’t nothin’ partic’ler, only a bit o’ bastin’ that I was doin’.”
“You ain’t a-workin’ on the machine, then, so you might bring your sewin’ over and take a cup o’ tea with me.”
“La! now that’s so kind o’ you, Mis’ Martin. I was jest thinkin’ how good a cup o’ tea would taste, but I didn’t want to stop to make it. I’ll be over in a minute, jest as soon as I see if my front door is locked.” And she disappeared within the house, while Mrs. Martin returned to her own sitting-room.
The invited knew very well what the invitation to tea meant. She knew that some fresh piece of news was to be related and discussed. The beverage of which she was invited to partake was but a pretext, but neither the one nor the other admitted as much. Each understood perfectly, as by a tacit agreement, and each tried to deceive herself and the other as to motives and objects.
There is some subtle tie between tea-drinking and gossip. It is over their dainty cups that women dissect us men and damn their sisters. Some of the quality of the lemon they take in their tea gets into their tongues. Tea is to talk what dew is to a plant, a gentle nourishing influence, which gives to its product much of its own quality. There are two acids in the tea which cultured women take. There is only one in the beverage brewed by commonplace people. But that is enough.
Mrs. Martin had taken her tray into the sitting-room, where a slight fire was burning in the prim “parlour cook,” on which the hot water was striving to keep its quality when Mrs. Smith came in.
“La, Mis’ Martin, you do manage to have everything so cosy. I’m shore a little fire in a settin’-room don’t feel bad these days.”
“I jest thought I’d have to have a fire,” replied Mrs. Martin, “fur I was feelin’ right down chilly, though goodness knows a person does burn enough coal in winter, without throwin’ it away in these early fall days.”
“Well, the Lord’s put it here fur our comfort, an’ I think we’re a-doin’ His will when we make use o’ the good things He gives us.”
“Ah, but Mis’ Smith, there’s too many people that goes about the world thinkin’ that they know jest what the Lord’s will is; but I have my doubts about ’em, though, mind you, I ain’t a-mentionin’ no names: ‘no name, no blame.’ ” Mrs. Martin pressed her lips and shook her head, a combination of gestures that was eloquent with meaning. It was too much for her companion. Her curiosity got the better of her caution.
“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “What is it now?”
“Oh, nothin’ of any consequence at all. It ain’t fur me to be a-judgin’ my neighbours or a-talkin’ about ’em. I jest thought I’d have you over to tea, you’re sich good company.”
Mrs. Smith was so impatient that she had forgotten her sewing and it lay neglected in her lap, but in no other way did she again betray her anxiety. She knew that there was something new to be told and that it would be told all in
