“How are you?” in a lugubrious voice.

Mrs. Bell assured Mrs. Butler that she was in excellent health, and Matty was called forward to administer the tea and cake.

Mrs. Butler also favored Matty with a portentous glance.

“Has that girl got over the cough which she was so troubled with a year back?” she queried of the parent.

Mrs. Bell bridled at this.  Never had her Matty looked stronger or more blooming, and after all the cough so solemnly inquired after, just for all the world, muttered the poor mother, as if it were a graveyard cough, had been but the remains of the whooping cough.

“Matty blooms,” replied Mrs. Bell.  “Don’t you, Matty, my love?  I don’t suppose, Mrs. Butler, you ever saw my girl looking better.”

“I’m glad of it,” said Mrs. Butler.  “No more tea, I thank you, Matty.  Well, then, as you are so pressing, just a tiny drop.  You can put it on what’s in my cup, if you like.  Oh, yes, certainly more cream.  I’m partial to cream, if it’s good.  It agrees with me.  It doesn’t agree with Maria, so I never give it her.  Well, as I was saying, I’m glad you are in good health, Matty, for a girl who has a real fine constitution can stand up against shocks.”

“Shocks?” said Mrs. Bell.  “I don’t think we need talk of shocks at this time of day, unless indeed, they are joyful ones.  Matty, my love,” here Mrs. Bell raised her voice to a high and penetrating key, “I wonder when our dear friends the Bertrams will be here.”

Matty blushed and giggled as only Matty could blush and giggle.  Poor Miss Peters felt herself turning crimson.  She ogled her eyes round at her sister, who rose solemnly and put down her cup and saucer.

The whole company had been impressed by Mrs. Bell’s words.  They ceased to talk, they seemed to know something was impending, and Mrs. Butler felt that her hour had come.  She cleared her throat and looked around at her audience.

“H—­m! ladies, I have called here with a little piece of news.  I daresay you have not heard it yet, for it’s fresh.  It was told to me in confidence, but my source is a most reliable one.  What’s the matter, Maria?  Oh, good gracious, I see you are taking cream.  You know how ill cream always makes you.  Will no one be kind enough to give Maria another cup of tea?  Well, ladies, I’ve come with news.  We’re to have a wedding soon!”

Here Mrs. Bell, who had felt, as she afterwards expressed it, cold shivers going down her back, while Mrs. Butler was firing off her preamble, now bridled and even blushed.  It was a little premature, certainly, but reports always did a trifle exceed the truth, and, as Matty was so certain to be engaged immediately she could scarcely blame Mrs. Butler for alluding to it prematurely.

She bent forward therefore and touched her friend on the arm.

“Spare the poor child’s blushes,” she whispered.  “She’s such a sensitive little thing.”