Nancy didn’t seem pleased.  And I thought she muttered something to herself as she went away.

Not five minutes elapsed before word came to my room that Mrs. Jordon was in the parlor and wished to speak to me.

“Now for trouble,” thought I. Sure enough, when I entered the parlor, the knit brow, flushed face, and angry eyes of my neighbor told me that there was to be a scene.

“Mrs. Smith,” she began, without ceremony or apology for her abruptness of manner, “I should like to know what you mean by the manner in which you refused to let me have a little flour just now?”

“How did I refuse?” I was cool enough to inquire.

“You refused in a manner which plainly enough snowed that you thought me a troublesome borrower.  ‘What’s wanted now?’ I think rather strange language to use to a domestic of mine.”

Really, thought I, this caps the climax.

“To speak the plain truth, Mrs. Jordon,” said I, “and not wishing to give any offence, you do use the privilege of a neighbor in this respect rather freely—­more freely, I must own, than I feel justified in doing.”

“Mrs. Smith, this is too much!” exclaimed Mrs. Jordon.  “Why you borrow of me twice where I borrow of you once.  I am particularly careful in matters of this kind.”

I looked at the woman with amazement.

“Borrow of you?” I asked.

“Certainly!” she replied, with perfect coolness.  “Scarcely a day passes that you do not send in for something or other.  But dear knows!  I have always felt pleasure in obliging you.”

I was mute for a time.

“Really, Mrs. Jordon,” said I, at length, as composedly as I could speak, “you seem to be laboring under some strange mistake.  The charge of frequent borrowing, I imagine, lies all on the other side.  I can name a dozen of my things in your house now, and can mention as many articles borrowed within the last three days.”

“Pray do so,” was her cool reply.

“You have my large wash-boiler,” I replied, “and two of my washing tubs.  You borrow them every Monday, and I have almost always to send for them.”

“I have your wash-boiler and tubs?  You are in error, Mrs. Smith.  I have a large boiler of my own, and plenty of tubs.”

“I don’t know what you have, Mrs. Jordon; but I do know that you get mine every week.  Excuse me for mentioning these things—­I do so at your desire.  Then, there is my coffee-mill, borrowed every morning.”

“Coffee-mill!  Why should I borrow your coffee-mill?  We have one of our own.”

“Yesterday you borrowed butter, and eggs, and sugar,” I continued.

“I?” my neighbor seemed perfectly amazed.

“Yes; and the day before a loaf of bread—­an egg to clear your coffee—­salt, pepper, and a nutmeg.”

“Never!”

“And to-day Nancy got some lard, a cup of coffee, and some Indian meal for a pudding.”