lotte had no business to get a letter from Jane Roberts without consulting me. It’s just like her underhanded ways. She got married the same way. Never said a word to me about it, but just sneaked off with that unprincipled Jacob Wheeler —”
“Mrs. Roberts is very ill. I understand,” persisted Mr. Patterson, nobly resolved to do what he had come to do, “dying, in fact, and —”
“Jane ill! Jane dying!” exclaimed Miss Rosetta. “Why, she was the healthiest girl I ever knew! But then I’ve never seen her, nor heard from her, since she got married fifteen years ago. I dare say her husband was a brute and neglected her, and she’s pined away by slow degrees. I’ve no faith in husbands. Look at Charlotte! Everybody knows how Jacob Wheeler used her. To be sure, she deserved it, but —”
“Mrs. Roberts’ husband is dead,” said Mr. Patterson. “Died about two months ago, I understand, and she has a little baby six months old, and she thought perhaps Mrs. Wheeler would take it for old times’ sake —”
“Did Charlotte ask you to call and tell me this?” demanded Miss Rosetta eagerly.
“No; she just told me what was in the letter. She didn’t mention you; but I thought, perhaps, you ought to be told —”
“I knew it,”’ said Miss Rosetta in a tone of bitter
