ite the same thing," he continued, waving his hand carelessly. "It makes no difference whatever."
"If you think so," said Mrs. Tarbell loftily; and she reiterated her question to Mrs. Stiles.
Mrs. Stiles fumbled with the lilac-silk tie about her neck, and said,--Mrs. Tarbell hung upon her words,--"That car--"
"That car had stopped before I went to git on,--I know that. And I went to git on; and after that I don't remember."
And when Mrs. Stiles finally hobbled back to her seat, a more woe-begone and wretched-looking object it would have been hard to find anywhere.
"Why, ma, what's the matter with you?" cried Miss Celandine, as Mr. Mecutchen went to take the stand. "Don't you see it's all right?"
Mrs. Stiles shook her head and rubbed her damp brow with her handkerchief. "I don't feel no certainty about it, Celandine," she said. "I wisht Mrs. Tarbell had let me accep' that compr'mise."
"Mamma!" cried Miss Celandine, in war