“I guess Flora didn’t think much about silk gowns, Aunt Jane,” said Francis, and his face reddened a little.  “I guess she didn’t think much about anything but George.”

“George!  What’s George Freeman?  What’s all the Freemans?  I ain’t never liked them.  They wa’n’t never up to our folks.  His mother ain’t never had a black silk dress to her name—­never had a thing better than black cashmere, an’ they ain’t never had a thing but oil-cloth in their front entry, an’ the Perry’s ain’t never noticed them either.  I ain’t never wanted Flora to go into that family.  I never felt as if she was lookin’ high enough, an’ I knew George couldn’t get no kind of a livin’ jest being clerk in Mason’s store.  But I felt different about it before Thomas died, for I thought she’d have money enough of her own, an’ she was gettin’ a little on in years, and George was good-lookin’ enough.  After Thomas died an’ left all his money to Edward’s wife, I hadn’t an idea Flora would be such a fool as to think of marryin’ George Freeman.  She’d been better off if she’d never been married.  I thought she’d given up all notions of it.”

“Well, don’t you worry, Aunt Jane,” said Francis in a hearty voice.  “Make the best of it.  I guess they’ll get along all right.  If George can’t buy Flora a silk dress I will.  I’d have bought her one anyway if I’d known.”

“You can stand up for her all you want to, Francis Arms,” cried his aunt.  “It’s nothin’ more than I ought to expect.  What do you s’pose I’m goin’ to do?  Here I am with all these folks to tea an’ Flora gone.  She might have waited till to-morrow.  Here they are all pryin’ an’ suspectin’.  But they shan’t know if I die for it.  They shan’t know that good-for-nothin’ girl went off an’ got married unbeknown to me.  They’ve had enough to crow over because we didn’t get Thomas Maxwell’s money; they shan’t have this nohow.  You’ll have to lend me some money, an’ I’m goin’ to Boston to-morrow an’ I’m goin’ to buy a silk dress for Flora an’ get it made, so she can go out bride when she comes home; an’ they’ve got to come here an’ board.  I might jest as well have the board-money as them Freemans, an’ folks shan’t think we ain’t on good terms.  Can you let me have some money to-morrow mornin’?”

“Of course I can, Aunt Jane,” said Francis soothingly.  “I’ll make Flora a wedding-present of it.”

“I don’t want it for a weddin’-present.  I’ll pay you back some time.  If you’re goin’ to give her a weddin’-present, I’d rather you’d give her somethin’ silver that she can show.  I ain’t goin’ to have you give her clothes for a weddin’-present, as if we was poor as the Freemans.  You didn’t have any pride.  There ain’t anybody in this family ever had any pride but me, an’ I have to keep it up, an’ nobody liftin’ a finger to help me.  Oh, dear!” the old woman quivered from head to foot.  Her face worked as if she was in silent hysterics.

“Don’t, Aunt Jane,” whispered her nephew—­“don’t feel so bad.  Maybe it’s all for the best.  Why, what is the matter with your wrist?”