The good woman went to work to clean up her stove, while Betsy kept on with the seemingly endless dish washing. Mrs. Hawkins finished her work, and, going to the sink, began to wipe the accumulated pile of dishes.
“I s’pose everybody in town will go to church next Sunday,” said Mrs. Hawkins, “to see them brides.”
“Will they look any different than they did the other day?” Betsy innocently inquired.
“Well, I guess,” remarked Mrs. Hawkins. “I saw Mandy yesterday and she told me all about her trip to the city. Mrs. Chessman went shoppin’ with them, and the way she beat them shopkeepers down was a sight, Mandy says. It beats all how them rich folks can buy things so much cheaper than us poor people can. She took them all home to dinner, and Mandy says she lives in the most beautifulest house she ever saw. Then she went to the dressmakers with them, and she beat them down more’n five dollars on each gown. Then she took ’em to the millinery store, and she bought each one of them a great big handsome hat, with feathers and ribbons and flowers all over ’em. Nobody has seen ’em yet, but all three on ’em are going to wear ’em to church next Sunday, and won’t there be a stir? Nobody’ll look at the new orgin.”
“I wish I could go,” said Betsy.
Mrs. Hawkins rattled on: “Mandy says she took ’em all into a jewelry store, and bought each one on ’em a breast-pin, a pair of earrings, and a putty ring, to remember her by. Then she druv ’em down to the deepo in her carriage.”
“I wish I could see them with all their fine things on,” said Betsy, again.
“Well, you shall, Betsy,” said good-hearted Mrs. Hawkins. “I’ll make Jonas help me wash the dishes Sunday mornin’, and you shall go to church.”
Betsy’s face was wreathed in smiles.
“You’re so good to me, Mrs. Hawkins,” she cried.
“Well,” answered Mrs. Hawkins, “you’ve worked like a Trojan the last week, and you deserve it. I guess if I go up in the attic I can git a good look at them as they’re walking home from church.”
In her excitement the old lady dropped a cup and saucer on the floor, and both mistress and maid went down on their hands and knees to pick up the pieces.
“The bird of love.”
The carriage containing Quincy and Rosa was driven at a rapid rate toward the station. There was no time to lose, as some had already been lost in the altercation with Mrs. Colby. They had proceeded but a short distance, when Rosa took out a pocketbook, and, lifting her veil, turned her face to Quincy.
What a striking face it was! Large, dark blue eyes, regular features, a light olive complexion, with a strong dash of red in each cheek, full red lips, and hair of almost raven blackness. Like lightning the thought flashed through Quincy’s mind, “What a contrast to my Alice!” for he always used the pronoun when he thought of her.