Soon she went away, and burying her face in her little handkerchief, sobbed bitterly.

Inside the drawing-room, Mrs. Butler and Mrs. Gorman Stanley were holding awful conclave.

“You don’t say, my dear, that she took the young man up to Miss Hart’s private room?  And who is Miss Hart?  And what’s all this fuss about?  No, I’m glad Maria isn’t here!  I always tried to do my duty by Maria, and a scandal of this kind she must not listen to.  What does it all mean, Mrs. Gorman Stanley?  Is Beatrice Meadowsweet to be married on Tuesday, or is she not?”

“My dear friend, I can’t tell you.  There are all sorts of rumors about.  I was at Perry’s buying a yard of muslin, when Mrs. Morris came in.  She had her mouth pursed up, and her voice perfectly guttural from bronchitis, so I knew she was keeping something in, and I made a point of going up to her.  I said, ’you have got some news, Mrs. Morris, and you may as well out with it.’  Then she told me.”

“What?  Mrs. Gorman Stanley, I trust you don’t feel the draught from that window.  I’ll shut it if you like.  But what—­what did she say?”

“Well, she said some queer things.  Nobody can quite make out whether Bee is to be married or not on Tuesday.  Some say that Captain Bertram is married already, and that his wife is living in seclusion at the Bells’.”

“At the Bells’?  I’ll go over at once and poke that mystery out.  Maria! Maria!  She’s sure to to be eaves-dropping somewhere near.  Maria, come here quickly, I want you.”

“What is it, Martha?”

The little crushed moth put in a face, which disclosed very red eyes, at the door.

“What is it, Martha?  Do you want me?”

“Ah, I thought you couldn’t be far off.  You’ll oblige me, Maria, by running upstairs, and fetching down my bonnet and mantle.  My old gloves will do, and I’ll have my fur boa, for the days are turning wonderfully chilly.  Yes, Mrs. Gorman Stanley,” continued Mrs. Butler, when Miss Peters had disappeared, “I’ll soon get at the bottom of that bit of gossip.  Are the Bells likely people to keep a close secret to themselves; you tell me that, Mrs. Gorman Stanley?  Aren’t they all blab, blab, blab?  Ah, here comes Maria—­and dressed to go out, too, upon my word?  Well, miss, I suppose I must humor you!  You’ll have the decency, however, to remember to turn away your head if we matrons wish to whisper a bit among ourselves.  Good-bye, Mrs. Gorman Stanley.  I’ll look in if I have any news for you this evening.”

“Do,” said Mrs. Gorman Stanley.  “I’m all a-gog to hear.  It’s no joke to order a handsome dress for a chit of a girl’s wedding, and then not wear it after all.  I meant to get new curtains for my back parlor, heavy snuff-colored moreen, going a great bargain, but I had to buy the dress instead.  Well, you’ll let me know the news.  Good-bye.”

As they were walking down the street to the Bells’ house Mrs. Butler turned sharply to her little companion: