"I suppose you mean Mr. Preston and Miss Gibson?"
"Why, who told you?" said Mrs. Goodenough, turning round upon her
in surprise. "You can't say as I did. There's many a Molly in
Hollingford, besides her,--though none, perhaps, in such a genteel
station in life. I never named her, I'm sure."
"No. But I know. I could tell my tale too," continued Mrs. Dawes.
"No! could you, really?" said Mrs. Goodenough, very curious and a
little jealous.
"Yes. My uncle Sheepshanks came upon them in the Park Avenue,--he
startled 'em a good deal, he said; and when he taxed Mr. Preston with
being with his sweetheart, he didn't deny it."
"Well! Now so much has come out, I'll tell you what I know. Only,
ladies, I wouldn't wish to do the girl an unkind turn,--so you must
keep what I've got to tell you a secret." Of course they promised;
that was easy.
"My Hannah, as married Tom Oakes, and lives in Pearson's Lane,
was a-gathering of damsons only a week ago, and Molly Gibson was
a-walking fast down the lane,--quite in a hurry like to meet some
one,--and Hannah's little Anna-Maria fell down, and Molly (who's a
kind-hearted lass enough) picked her up; so if Hannah had had her
doubts before, she had none then."
"But there was no one with her, was there?" asked one of the ladies,
anxiously, as Mrs. Goodenough stopped to finish her piece of cake,
just at this crisis.
"No: I said she looked as if she was going to meet some one,--and
by-and-by comes Mr. Preston running out of the wood just beyond
Hannah's, and says he, 'A cup of water, please, good woman, for a
lady has fainted, or is 'sterical or something.' Now though he didn't
know Hannah, Hannah knew him. 'More folks know Tom Fool, than Tom
Fool knows,' asking Mr. Preston's pardon; for he's no fool whatever
he be. And I could tell you more,--and what I've seed with my
own eyes. I seed her give him a letter in Grinstead's shop, only
yesterday, and he looked as black as thunder at her, for he seed me
if she didn't."
"It's a very suitable kind of thing," said Miss Airy; "why do they
make such a mystery of it?"
"Some folks like it," said Mrs. Dawes; "it adds zest to it all, to do
their courting underhand."
"Ay, it's like salt to their victual," put in Mrs. Goodenough. "But I
didn't think Molly Gibson was one of that sort, I didn't."
"The Gibsons hold themselves very high?" cried Mrs. Dawes, more as an
inquiry than an assertion. "Mrs. Gibson has called upon me."