Mrs. Butler seated herself in an aggressive manner on the edge of the sofa, and Miss Peters took a chair as close as possible to Mrs. Morris, who pushed hers away from her.

Each lady was anxious to engross the whole attention of Mrs. Meadowsweet, and it was scarcely possible for the good-natured woman not to feel flattered.

“Now, you’ll all have a cup of tea with me,” she said.  “I know Jane’s getting it, but I’ll ring the bell to hasten her.  Ah, thank you, Miss Peters.”

Miss Peters had sprung to her feet, seized the bell-rope before any one could hinder her, and sounded a vigorous peal.  Then she rolled her eyes at Mrs. Butler and sat down.

Mrs. Morris said that when Miss Peters rolled her eyes she invariably shivered.  She shivered now in such a marked and open way that poor Mrs. Meadowsweet feared her friend had taken cold.

“Dear, dear—­I only wish I had a fire lighted,” she said.  “Your bronchitis will be getting worse, if you aren’t careful, Jessie.  Miss Peters, a cup of tea will do your throat good.  It always does mine when I get nipped.”

“Don’t encourage Maria in her fancies,” snapped Mrs. Butler.  “There’s nothing ails her throat, only she will wrap herself in so much wool that she makes herself quite delicate.  I tell her she fancies she is a hothouse plant.”

“Oh, nothing of the kind,” whispered Mrs. Morris.

“That’s what I say,” nodded back Mrs. Butler.  “More of the nature of the hardy broom.  But now we haven’t come to discuss Maria and her fads.  You have had a visitor to-day, Mrs. Meadowsweet.”

“Ah, here comes the tea,” exclaimed Mrs. Meadowsweet.  “Bring the table over here, Jane.  Now this is what I call cozy.  Jane, you might ask cook to send up some buttered toast, and a little more cream.  Yes, Mrs. Butler, I beg your pardon.”

“I was remarking that you had a visitor,” repeated Mrs. Butler.

“Ah, so I had.  Mrs. Bertram called on me.”

“And why shouldn’t she call on you, dear?” suddenly whispered Mrs. Morris.  “Aren’t you quite as good as she is when all’s said and done?  Yes, dear, I’ll have some of your delicious tea.  Such a treat!  Some more cream?  Thank you, yes; I’ll help myself.  Why shouldn’t Mrs. Bertram call on Mrs. Meadowsweet?  That’s what I say, ladies,” continued Mrs. Morris, looking over the top of her cup of tea in a decidedly fight-me-if-you-dare manner.

“Nobody said she shouldn’t call,” answered Mrs. Butler.  “Maria, you’ll oblige me by going into the hall and fetching my wrap.  There’s rather a chill from this window—­and the weather is very inclement for the time of year.  No, thank you, Mrs. Morris, I wouldn’t take your seat for the world.  As you justly remark, why shouldn’t Mrs Bertram call on our good friend here?  And, for that matter, why shouldn’t she cross the road, and leave her card on you, Mrs. Morris?”

Mrs. Morris was here taken with such a fit of bronchial coughing and choking that she could make no response.  Miss Peters rolled her eyes at her sister in a manner which plainly said, “You had her there, Martha,” and poor Mrs. Meadowsweet began nervously to wish that she had not been the honored recipient of Mrs. Bertram’s favors.