“W-e-ll, what do you think about it? If _we_ cut her all the village will. What say you?” “To be sure, to be sure, that’s true; her place in society depends upon _us_, my dear. She gives such pleasant parties, such excellent soft waffles, and then one meets sometimes such agreeable people from the city there, which gives the girls a chance, you know, (winking knowingly,) that it would be a pity to throw her off.” “I agree with you, my dear Miss Clapper—and—after all, she’s honestly married, although she stole away, like a thief in the night.” “Suppose we just stop and ask Katy a few questions. May be they wish to keep it a secret. Here we are by the house—shall we stop?” “I have no objections, my dear; but you’ll get nothing out of that piece of sour-crout.” “I’ll pump her; leave me alone for _that_.” Accordingly the two loving, neighborly gossips rapt at the door of the white cottage from whence had stolen forth the fugitives the night previous. The loud knock announced the aristocracy of the village; the door opened, and the sharp bluish features of Katy filled up the aperture. Her small _gravy_ eyes blinked for a moment when she beheld the visitors; the next Katy stood the personification of gravity. “Well, Katy,” cried Miss Clapper, in her most dulcet tones, “how _do_ you do this fine morn? all well, I hope,” making an effort to open wider the door. “Why, yes, Miss; a very fine morning, and we are all well, thanks be to goodness,” answered Katy, holding the door still closer, and protruding her nose still farther, so that the sudden slam of the door would have deprived that venerable spinster of that most conspicuous of all features, a _red nose_. “Sorry I can’t ask you both in—but nobody’s home.” “Ah! so, then, it’s true, what we heard this morning,” said Mrs. Potts. “Can’t say, indeed, Marm, as I don’t know what you might have heard.” “Oh! only that your mistress ran off last night and was married, and went away this morning in the village hack,” almost screamed Miss Clapper. “And so my mistress _is_ married, and I know some that would like to be in her shoes, if they could but get the chance.” “Well, well, Katy, no offence is meant,” cried Mrs. Potts; “when will the bride be home?” “She bade me tell you, Marm, and Miss Clapper, (and she wants you to tell the village) that on Thursday evening the doors will be thrown open and the candles lighted, and you will see _her_ and _plenty_ of wedding cake and good wine.” Thus saying, she gently closed the door. “So! it’s no secret after all,” cried Mrs. Potts; “Katy made no bones at confession.” “No! the old she devil! how I hate that creature—she always _Miss-es_ one so—never calls me any thing but _Miss_!—_Miss!_—She shan’t read it on my tomb-stone, if I can help it,” muttered _Miss_ Clapper.