Mrs. Persis Flagg stood in her front doorway taking leave of Miss
Cynthia Pickett, who had been making a long call. They were not
intimate friends. Miss Pickett always came formally to the front door
and rang when she paid her visits, but, the week before, they had met
at the county conference, and happened to be sent to the same house
for entertainment, and so had deepened and renewed the pleasures of
acquaintance.
It was an afternoon in early June; the syringa-bushes were tall and
green on each side of the stone doorsteps, and were covered with their
lovely white and golden flowers. Miss Pickett broke off the nearest
twig, and held it before her prim face as she talked. She had a pretty
childlike smile that came and went suddenly, but her face was not one
that bore the marks of many pleasures. Mrs. Flagg was a tall,
commanding sort of person, with an air of satisfaction and authority.
"Oh, yes, gather all you want," she said stiffly, as Miss Pickett took
the syringa without having asked beforehand; but she had an amiable
expression, and just now her large countenance was lighted up by
pleasant anticipation.
"We can tell early what sort of a day it's goin' to be," she said
eagerly. "There ain't a cloud in the sky now. I'll stop for you as I
come along, or if there should be anything unforeseen to detain me,
I'll send you word. I don't expect you'd want to go if it wa'n't so
that I could?"
"Oh my sakes, no!" answered Miss Pickett discreetly, with a timid
flush. "You feel certain that Mis' Timms won't be put out? I shouldn't
feel free to go unless I went 'long o' you."
"Why, nothin' could be plainer than her words," said Mrs. Flagg in a
tone of reproval. "You saw how she urged me, an' had over all that
talk about how we used to see each other often when we both lived to
Longport, and told how she'd been thinkin' of writin', and askin' if
it wa'n't so I should be able to come over and stop three or four days
as soon as settled weather come, because she couldn't make no fire in
her best chamber on account of the chimbley smokin' if the wind wa'n't
just right. You see how she felt toward me, kissin' of me comin' and
goin'? Why, she even asked me who I employed to do over my bonnet,
Miss Pickett, just as interested as if she was a sister; an' she
remarked she should look for us any pleasant day after we all got
home, an' were settled after the conference."
Miss Pickett smiled, but did not speak, as if she expected more
arguments still.
"An' she seemed just about as much gratified to meet with you again.
She seemed to desire to meet you again very particular," continued
Mrs. Flagg. "She really urged us to come together an' have a real good
day talkin' over old times--there, don't le' 's go all over it again!
I've always heard she'd made that old house of her aunt Bascoms' where
she lives look real handsome. I once heard her best parlor carpet
described as being an elegant carpet, different from any there was
round here. Why, nobody couldn't be more cordial, Miss Pickett; you
ain't goin' to give out just at the last?"
"Oh, no!" answered the visitor hastily; "no, 'm! I want to go full as
much as you do, Mis' Flagg, but you see I never was so well acquainted
with Mis' Cap'n Timms, an' I always seem to dread putting myself
for'ard. She certain was very urgent, an' she said plain enough to
come any day next week, an' here 'tis Wednesday, though of course she
wouldn't look for us either Monday or Tuesday. 'T will be a real
pleasant occasion, an' now we've been to the conference it don't seem
near so much effort to start."
"Why, I don't think nothin' of it," said Mrs. Flagg proudly. "We shall
have a grand good time, goin' together an' all, I feel sure."
Miss Pickett still played with her syringa flower, tapping her thin
cheek, and twirling the stem with her fingers. She looked as if she
were going to say something more, but after a moment's hesitation she
turned away.
"Good-afternoon, Mis' Flagg," she said formally, looking up with a
quick little smile; "I enjoyed my call; I hope I ain't kep' you too
late; I don't know but what it's 'most tea-tune. Well, I shall look
for you in the mornin'."
"Good-afternoon, Miss Pickett; I'm glad I was in when you came. Call
again, won't you?" said Mrs. Flagg. "Yes; you may expect me in good
season," and so they parted. Miss Pickett went out at the neat
clicking gate in the white fence, and Mrs. Flagg a moment later looked
out of her sitting-room window to see if the gate were latched, and
felt the least bit disappointed to find that it was. She sometimes
went out after the departure of a guest, and fastened the gate herself
with a loud, rebuking sound. Both of these Woodville women lived
alone, and were very precise in their way of doing things.