I believe she'd hate
the sight of him, if 't wasn't the minister; but _'tis_ the minister,
and when she's put face to face with him, she can't help saying yes and
no."
"I dunno'," said Mrs. Page, with her unctuous laugh. "Remember the
party over to Tiverton t'other night, an' them tarts? You see, Rosanna
Maria Pike asked us all over; an' you know how flaky her pie-crust is.
Well, the minister was stan'in' side of Isabel when the tarts was
passed. He was sort o' shinin' up to her that night, an' I guess he
felt a mite twittery; so when the tarts come to him, he reached out
kind o' delicate, with his little finger straight out, an' tried to
take one. An' a ring o' crust come off on his finger. Then he tried it
ag'in, an' got another ring. Everybody'd ha' laughed, if it hadn't been
the minister; but Isabel she tickled right out, an' says, 'You don't
take jelly, do you, Mr. Bond?' An' he turned as red as fire, an' says,
'No, I thank you.'"
"She wouldn't ha' said it, if she hadn't ha' been so nervous," remarked
Miss Sally, taking a little parcel of peppermints from her pocket, and
proceeding to divide them.
"No, I don't s'pose she would," owned Mrs. Page reflectively. "But if
what they say is true, she's been pretty sassy to him, fust an' last.
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