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She heaved a prodigious sigh as she spoke, for of course she had heard the gossip, and had indeed come to blows with a Hartite that very morning. "Eh, dear!" said Jane. "Rumor's a queer thing." She did not vouchsafe any more, and Mrs. Meadowsweet was too innocent and indolent and comfortable in her mind to question her. The other person who knew nothing was Mrs. Bertram.
Meadowsweet's, was followed by quite a little mob. Thus time went on apace, and Rumor did his work, each lady saying when she met another: "Well, what's the news? What's the latest? What did you hear last?" Each Hartite bowed coldly to each Beatricite, or else cut each other dead, and, in short, the usual symptoms which accompany civil war made themselves felt.
For the last week she had taken steps to keep Catherine and Mabel apart from all Northbury gossip. The servants at the Manor who, of course knew everything did not dare to breathe a syllable of their conjectures. The bravest Hartite and Beatricite would not have dared to intrude their budgets of wild conjecture on Mrs. Bertram's ears.
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