People are so uncharitable. If it
should get out, I would be talked about dreadfully; and I'm sure the
girl is a great deal more to blame than I am. Why didn't she see to
it that her feet and clothes were dried before she sat down to her
work?"
Mrs. Wykoff did not answer. Mrs. Lowe stood for a few moments,
waiting for some exculpatory suggestion; but Mrs. Wykoff had none to
offer.
"Good morning. You'll find me all ready when you call."
"Good morning."
And the ladies parted.
"Ah, Mrs. Lowe! How are you this morning?"
A street meeting, ten minutes later.
"Right well. How are you?"
"Well as usual. I just called at your house."
"Ah, indeed! Come, go back again."
"No, thank you; I've several calls to make this morning. But, d' you
know, there's a strange story afloat about a certain lady of your
acquaintance?"
"Of my acquaintance?"
"Yes; a lady with whom you are very, very intimate."
"What is it?" There was a little anxiety mixed with the curious air
of Mrs. Lowe.
"Something about murdering a sewing-girl."
"What?" Mrs. Lowe started as if she had received a blow; a
frightened look came into her face.
"But there isn't anything in it, of course," said the friend, in
considerable astonishment at the effect produced on Mrs. Lowe.
"Tell me just what you have heard," said the latter. "You mean me by
the lady of your intimate acquaintance.
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