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Kittersby says they haven't got a THING! Just absolutely NOTHING and they don't know anywhere to turn! The family's all died out but them, and all the relatives they got are very distant, and live East and scarcely know 'em. She says the whole town's been wondering what WOULD become of 'em.
Mrs. Vertrees descended the steps and walked toward the street with Sibyl. "It's quite balmy for so late in November, isn't it? Almost like a May evening." "I'm afraid Miss Vertrees will miss her piano," said Sibyl, watching the instrument disappear into the big van at the curb. "She plays wonderfully, Mrs. Kittersby tells me." "Yes, she plays very well.
Kittersby and her daughter were chatting about some to the people here in town the other day," said Sibyl, repeating the cooing and protracting it. "They said something that took ME by surprise! We were talking about our mutual friend, Mr. Robert Lamhorn " Mary interrupted her promptly. "Do you mean 'mutual' to include my mother and me?" she asked.
"Wait!" she begged. "You'll see. I was sitting by the window a little while ago, and I saw a big wagon drive up across the street and some men go into the house. It was too dark to make out much, and for a minute I got the idea they were moving out the house has been foreclosed on, Mrs. Kittersby says. It seemed funny, too, because I knew that girl was out riding with Bibbs.
Kittersby and her daughter, and they're out of the question, anyway. But suppose I could say: 'All right, if you want proof, ask Miss Vertrees. She came with me, and she's waiting in the next room right now, to " "No, no," said Mary, quickly. "You mustn't " "Listen just a minute more," Sibyl urged, confidingly. She was on easy ground now, to her own mind, and had no doubt of her success.
"Me?" she cried, dropping her feet and swinging around to face him. "Nothing. It's them! Those Vertreeses!" She wiped her eyes. "They've had to sell their piano!" "Well, what of it?" "That Mrs. Kittersby told me all about 'em a week ago," said Sibyl.
"Why, yes; the Kittersbys and you and all of us Sheridans, I mean." "No," said Mary. "We shouldn't consider Mr. Robert Lamhorn a friend of ours." To her surprise, Sibyl nodded eagerly, as if greatly pleased. "That's just the way Mrs. Kittersby talked!" she cried, with a vehemence that made Mary stare. "Yes, and I hear that's the way ALL you old families here speak of him!"
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