of sewing clutched precariously in her apron, just as she had caught it up when the significant call brought her to the back door.
"Oh, you're busy as usual, I see," said Mrs. Martin.
"It ain't nothin' partic'ler, only a bit o' bastin' that I was doin'."
"You ain't a-workin' on the machine, then, so you might bring your sewin' over and take a cup o' tea with me."
"La! now that's so kind o' you, Mis' Martin. I was jest thinkin' how good a cup o' tea would taste, but I didn't want to stop to make it. I'll be over in a minute, jest as soon as I see if my front door is locked." And she disappeared within the house, while Mrs. Martin returned to her own sitting-room.
The invited knew very well what the invitation to tea meant. She knew that some fresh piece of news was to be related and discussed. The beverage of which she was invited to partake was but a pretext, but neither the one nor the other admitted as much. Each understood perfectly, as by a tacit agreement, and each tried to deceive herself and the other as to motives and objects.
