“She came to see me on account of Beatrice,” remarked the hostess.  “At least I think that was why she came.  I beg your pardon, did you say anything, ladies?”

“Oh! fie, fie!  Mrs. Meadowsweet,” said Miss Peters, “you are too modest.  In my sister’s name and my own, I say you are too modest.”

“And in my name too,” interrupted Mrs. Morris.  “You are too humble, my dear friend.  She called to see you for your own dear sake and for no other.”

“And now let us all be friendly,” continued Miss Peters, “and learn the news.  I think we are all of one mind in wishing to learn the news.”

Mrs. Meadowsweet smoothed down the front of her black satin dress.  She knew, and her friends knew, that she would have much preferred the honor of Mrs. Bertram’s call to be due to Beatrice’s charms than her own.  She smiled, however, with her usual gentleness, and plunged into the conversation which the three other ladies were so eager to commence.

Before they departed they had literally taken Mrs. Bertram to pieces.  They had fallen upon her tooth and nail, and dissected her morally, and socially, and with the closest scrutiny of all, from a religious point of view.

Mrs. Meadowsweet, who never spoke against any one, was amazed at the ingenuity with which the character of her friend (she felt she must call Mrs. Bertram her friend) was blackened.  Before the ladies left Mrs. Meadowsweet’s house they had proved, in the ablest and most thorough manner, that Mrs. Bertram was worldly and vain, that she lived beyond her means, that she trained her daughters to think of themselves far more highly than they ought to think, that in all probability she was not what she pretended to be, and, finally, that poor Mrs. Meadowsweet, dear Mrs. Meadowsweet, was in great danger on account of her friendship.

“I don’t agree with you, ladies,” said the good woman, as they were leaving the house, but they neither heeded nor heard her remark.

The explanation of their conduct was simple enough.  They were devoured with jealousy.  Had Mrs. Bertram called on any one of them, she would have been in that person’s estimation the most fascinating woman in Northbury.

CHAPTER II.

Mrs. Bertram’s will.

And Mrs. Bertram did not care in the least what anybody thought of her.  She was in no sense of the word a sham.  She was well-born, well-educated, respectably married, and fairly well-off.  The people in Northbury considered her rich.  She always spoke of herself as poor.  In reality she was neither rich nor poor.  She had an income of something like twelve hundred a year, and on that she lived comfortably, educated her children well, and certainly managed to present a nice appearance wherever she went.