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Updated: May 16, 2025
She shifted her brown basket to the other arm, ignoring the second question. "Oh, Cronney's good ony he's low-spirited seems as tho he couldn't get no work." "Same old crooked stick, hey?" Mrs. Tuttle called down facetiously. Mrs. Bean and Mrs. Tinneray stole horrified glances at each other. One planted a cotton-gloved hand over an opening mouth. But little Mrs.
Tinneray with increasing solemnity chewed her calamus-root "now she's been and bought one of them ottermobiles and runs it herself like you'd run your sewin'-machine, just as shameless " Both of the ladies glared condemnation at the distant blue feather. Mrs. Tinneray continued, "Hetty Cronney's worth a dozen of her.
By degrees, other excursionists, leaning over the railing, began to catch at something spicy in the situation of these two sisters brought face to face. At Mrs. Cronney's sally, one of the funny men guffawed his approval. Groups of excursionists explained to each other that that lady down there, her on the wharf, in the brown, was own sister to Mrs. Josiah Tuttle!
"Why er ye-ess, that's rill nice," she agreed, with all the patronage of the wealthy relative. Little Mrs. Cronney's eyes glittered. The steamboat hands had begun lifting the hawsers from the wharf piles and her time was short. She was not going to be pitied by the opulent persons on the excursion. Getting as it were into her stride, she took a bolder line of imagery.
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