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Updated: June 29, 2025
Jane entered the drawing-room in advance of Lucy and was busying herself putting the final touches to the apartment, arranging the sprays of blossoms over the clock and under the portrait of Morton Cobden, which looked calmly down on the room from its place on the walls, when the door opened softly and Martha the old nurse had for years been treated as a member of the family stepped in, bowing and curtsying as would an old woman in a play, the skirt of her new black silk gown that Ann Gossaway had made for her held out between her plump fingers, her mob-cap with its long lace strings bobbing with every gesture.
Tatham, who attends to the transportation of the cities of Warehold and Barnegat; and the Right Honorable Mr. Tipple, and Mrs. and Miss Gossaway, renowned for their toilets " Mrs. Cavendish bit her lip. When her son was in one of these moods it was all she could do to keep her temper. "And the wonderful Mrs. Malmsley, and " Mrs. Cavendish looked up.
So Miss Gossaway, busy with her own thoughts, kept on her way unnoticed by either Lucy or Bart. When she reached the cross-road she met Doctor John driving in. He tightened the reins on the sorrel and stopped. "Lovely afternoon, Miss Gossaway. Where are you from looking at the sunset?" "No, I ain't got no time for spoonin'. I might be if I was Miss Jane and Bart Holt.
"You've said it," laughed Martha, leaning over the wheel so as to press his fingers in her warm palm. "There ain't no doubt 'bout that skinny fright being 'Miss, and there ain't no doubt 'bout her stayin' so. Ann Gossaway she is, and Ann Gossaway she'll die. Is she took bad?" she continued, a merry, questioning look lighting up her kindly face, her lips pursed knowingly.
Meg would not run out to meet her, and Rex was under a stone that the doctor had placed over his grave; nor would Ann Gossaway peer out of her eyrie of a window and follow her with her eyes as she drove by; her tongue was quiet at last, and she and her old mother lay side by side in the graveyard.
He liked neither her tone nor the way in which she spoke of the mistress of Yardley. No one else dared as much. If Jane was really on the beach and with Bart, she had some good purpose in her mind. It may have been her day for visiting, and Bart, perhaps, had accompanied her. But why had Miss Gossaway not met Miss Cobden at Fogarty's, his being the only cabin that far down the beach?
"No, Martha; it's the dressmaker," answered the doctor, tightening the reins on the restless sorrel as he spoke. The voice was low and kindly and had a ring of sincerity through it. "What dressmaker?" "Why, Miss Gossaway!" His hand was extended now that fine, delicately wrought, sympathetic hand that had soothed so many aching heads.
Should Miss Gossaway have been sitting at her lookout some weeks after Martha's interview with Captain Nat Holt, and should she have watched the movements of Doctor John's gig as it rounded into the open gate of Cobden Manor, she must have decided that something out of the common was either happening or about to happen inside Yardley's hospitable doors.
"Well, it ain't none of my business, of course, Martha Sands," Miss Gossaway began, "and that's just what I said to mother when I come home, but if I was some folks I'd see my company in my parlor, long as I had one, 'stead of hidin' down behind the House o' Refuge. I said to mother soon's I got in, 'I'm goin' to tell Martha Sands fust minute I see her.
Miss Gossaway had heard Meg's bark and had been accorded a full view of Lucy's back covered by Jane's red cloak, with Bart sitting beside her, their shoulders touching. Lovers with their heads together interested the gossip no longer, except as a topic to talk about. Such trifles had these many years passed out of the dress-maker's life.
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