A neat line of flopping clothes glimmered in each back yard over the
trim "green" that stretched across in front of the back door, and the
irons were on in both kitchens preparing for a finish as soon as a
"piece" should show signs of dry.
"Hev ye haird whut the extra session meetin' was called for, Mary?"
asked the older woman looking up from her mixing bowl. "Tom went to the
mill to tak the place of the noight watchman. His feyther's dyin' ye
ken, and Tom's not come by yet. I thot ye might hev haird."
Mary lifted her eyes with troubled glance: "Not yet," she said, "but I'm thinkin of running over to Duncannons as
soon as I get these pies in the oven. The clothes won't be dry for a
while, an' I'll take my pan of peas to shell. She'll know of course.
Maybe it's nothing much,--but Jim said they held up Mark Carter and
made him come in. It was ten minutes of ten before he got away--! You
don't suppose anybody's taken the gossip to the session do you?"
"There's one we know well would be full cawpable of the same," affirmed
Christie patting her biscuits into place and tucking the bread cloth
deftly over them, "But I'd be sorry to see a meenister an' a session as
wud be held up by one poor whimperin' little elder of the like of him."
"Mr. Severn won't, I'm sure o' that!" said Mary trustingly, "but there
comes Mrs. Duncannon now, I'll run over and see what's in the wind."
Mrs. Duncannon had grown a smile on her gentle face that was like as
two peas to her husband's wide kindly grin, but there was no smile on
her face this morning as she greeted her two friends, and dropped into
a chair by the door of Christie's immaculate kitchen, and her soft
brown eyes were snapping: She had an air of carrying kindly mysterious
explosives: "Did ye hear that the old ferret held up Mark Carter last night and as
good as called him a murderer in the face of the whole session?" she
asked breathlessly.
"And whut said our meenister to thot?" inquired Christie.
Jane Duncannon flashed her a twinkle of appreciation: "He just clapped the senior elder in the chair as neat as a pin in a
pincushion an' moved an expression of confidence, utmost
confidence was the word--!"
"Mmmmmmmm! I thot as much!" commented Christie, "The blessed mon!"