The Morning Glory Club Part 17

"Mrs. Stout will speak the truth at all times," remarked Mrs. Tweedie, sarcastically.

"Somebody's got to tell it," retorted Mrs. Stout.

"Pardon me, ladies," said Miss Sawyer, "but we have drifted away from the work of the great poet."

"Poet!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout. "Was Shakespeare a poet?"

"Certainly," replied Miss Sawyer, impatiently.

"And is this play poetry?"

"Yes, much of it."

"Well!" Mrs. Stout's astonishment equalled her ignorance.

"Do you object greatly to poetry?" asked Mrs. Tweedie.

"Oh, no," replied Mrs. Stout, "poetry is good, like angel-cake, but you can't live on it."

The laugh that followed cleared the atmosphere, and the rehearsal continued. As it progressed the ladies gained courage, and declaimed their lines in what they thought was a professional manner. Miss Sawyer was pleased and beamed on them encouragingly, suggesting now and then a gesture, inflection, or "business," but, despite her efforts to keep them constantly on the dramatic road, digressions were frequent.

"I wonder if Miss Wallace cares anything about Will Flint," said Mrs.

Thornton to Mrs. Darling, when they were alone in a corner of the hall waiting their "turn."

"I am sure that _I_ don't know, but I have heard that he was very fond of her, and that he walks to and from school with her almost every day."

"Really! and hasn't he anything else to do?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. Of course you know that there are mysterious, disagreeable stories about him, and that for a minister's son he is--er--well--"

"I understand perfectly."

"'There's a skeleton--' you know the saying, and--" Just then the gossipers heard the rustle of skirts in the hall above, followed by the sound of a door being closed. They looked at each other in dismay.

"Do you suppose?" gasped Mrs. Darling, in alarm.

"I'll find out," replied Mrs. Thornton, as she went to the parlour door and beckoned to f.a.n.n.y Tweedie.

"What do you want?" asked f.a.n.n.y, as she came into the hall.

"s.h.!.+ Is--er--Miss Wallace at home?" whispered Mrs. Darling.

"Yes," f.a.n.n.y replied. "Why?"

"Oh!" gasped the culprits.

"What _will_ she think of us?" groaned Mrs. Darling.

"What are you folks whisperin' about?" asked Mrs. Stout at that moment as she came out into the hall and joined them. f.a.n.n.y laughed, she had guessed the cause of Mrs. Darling's and Mrs. Thornton's discomfiture, and enjoyed the situation.

"Well," whispered Mrs. Thornton in reply to Mrs. Stout's question, "we, Dolly and I, were talking out here, and we happened to mention--we spoke of Will Flint and Miss Wallace, and we think that perhaps she--"

"Heard," interrupted Mrs. Darling.

"Good 'nough for you," said Mrs. Stout.

"s.h.!.+ But we didn't say a word that she could object to," continued Mrs.

Thornton.

"At least about her," added Mrs. Darling.

"But," said Mrs. Stout, "you did say somethin' about Willie Flint that--"

"Hus.h.!.+" exclaimed the guilty ones.

"I thought so," said Mrs. Stout, lowering her voice. "But let me tell you that I believe that Willie Flint ain't half as bad as some folks try to make him out to be, and as for he and Miss Wallace--"

"It is your turn, Mrs. Darling," called Miss Sawyer from the parlour.

The whisperers returned to their work, but in the minds of two of them were many misgivings.

"Serves her right," whispered Mrs. Darling to Mrs. Thornton at the first opportunity.

"Indeed it does," was her friend's reply.

The aspirants for histrionic laurels rehea.r.s.ed the scene twice, and then sat down to talk it over.

"What I can't understand," said Mrs. Blake, "is why Ba.s.sanio and Gratiano didn't know Portia and Nerissa, with whom they were in love."

"Portia and Nerissa were dressed as men," replied Mrs. Jones.

"And supposed to be miles away," added Miss Sawyer.

"Well," Mrs. Stout began, "all I've got to say is that most men know their best girls when they see 'em, no matter what they've got on.

Goodness!" she exclaimed as she glanced at the clock. "If it ain't twelve o'clock! My Peter's dinner will be late, and all on account of William Shakespeare."

Chapter XI

The Narrow Way

"MRS. FLINT," said the Reverend Elijah one morning when the family of three were at breakfast, "during the past week I have heard frequently of the contemplated theatrical performance by the members, and for the benefit, of the woman's club."

"Yes," replied Mrs. Flint, timidly, "everybody seems to be looking forward to it with pleasure."

"That was not the point I was about to make," said the parson, curtly.