“Oh, I shall never have any such secrets,” said Laura, blushing; “my sister never lets the beaux come to see me, you know.  I’m going to be an old maid.”

“Well, perhaps you will be,” said Miss Blake; “only they gen’ally don’t make old maids of such lookin’ girls as you be.”

But though Miss Blake took Laura into favor, she was by no means inclined to do the same by Mrs. Jaynes, who, having found to her cost that the ill-will of the humble sempstress was not to be lightly contemned, was now plainly anxious to conciliate her.  But Statira was proof against all the wheedling and flattery of the parson’s wife, behaving towards her always with the same cool civility, and with great self-control,—­using none of the frequent opportunities afforded her to make some taunt, or fling, or reproachful allusion to Mrs. Jaynes’s former conduct.  Once, to be sure, when urged by the parson’s wife and a committee of the Dorcas Society to invite that respectable body to convene at the Bugbee mansion for labor and refreshment, Statira returned a reply so plainly spoken that it was deemed rude and ungracious.

“Cornelia is mistress of this house, Miss Jaynes,” said she, “and if she belonged to your society, and wanted to have its weekly meetin’s here in turn, I’d do my best to give ’em somethin’ good to eat and drink.  But as she has left the matter to me, I say ‘No,’ without any misgivin’ or doubt; and for fear I may be called stingy or unsociable, I’ll tell the reason why I say so,—­and besides, it’s due to you to tell it.  There’s poor women, even in this town, put to it to get employment by which they can earn bread for themselves and their children.  They can’t go out to do housework, for they’ve got young ones too little to carry with ’em, and maybe a whole family of ‘em.  Takin’ in sewin’ is their only resource.  Well, ma’am, for ladies, well-to-do and rich, to get together, under pretence of good works and charity, and take away work from these poor women, by offerin’ to do it cheaper, underbiddin’ of ’em for jobs, which I’ve known the thing to be done, and then settin’ over their ill-gotten tasks, sewin’, and gabblin’ slander all the afternoon, to get money to buy velvet pulpit-cushions or gilt chandeliers with, or to help pay some missionary’s passage to the Tongoo Islands, is, in my opinion, a humbug, and, what’s worse, a downright breach of the Golden Rule.  At any rate, with my notions, it would be hypocrisy in me to join in, and that’s why I don’t invite the society here.  I don’t know but I have spoke too strong; if so, I’m sorry; but I’ve had to earn my own livin’, ever since I was a girl, with my needle, and I know how hard the lot of them is that have to do so too.  Besides, I can’t help thinkin’, what, perhaps, you never thought of, yourselves, ladies, that every person, who, while they can just as well turn their hands to other business, yet, for their own whim, or pleasure, or convenience, or profit, chooses to do work, of which there a’n’t