“I have long enjoyed that delicious suspicion,” deploy Mrs Jno W. Smith, who do not care for gossip, but merely stay near to oversea that job. “Mrs van Swallow Tagg has a mortgage on her house which leaks,” continue on this sewing-wasp. “I am sorry for her peevish temper which is a disease. Her husband is a good man, but dishonest.” “She wears her hats unbearably,” reproach Mrs Jno W. “Mrs Cyrus Q. Bogle’s prominent Aunt Angelica drinks patent medicine for her rheumatism.” “How shocked I am!” explode Hon. Mrs. “Tell me some more.” “Her nephew Joshua who goes to Yale to study footballing--excuse, please, would you prefer to have this yoke hooked or cut bias?” “Cut bias, please,” exclam Mrs Smith with tense voice. “What did you say about Mrs Bogle’s Nephew Joshua who go to Yale?” “He arrive home from Yale smelling distinctually of cigarettes. He cannot last long.” “Them Bogles contain very common stock,” repose Mrs Jno. “I seldom could admire Mrs Bogle’s character since she came to church in that flowered dimity with panniers of heliotrope velour cut umpire style at the neck with a demi-train of Belgian brocade.” “I respect your grief,” relapse Hon. Annie B. “Although she are one of my dearest friends,” explan Mrs Smith, “I am obliged to add stinginess to her other disagreeable virtues. In despite of the fact that her husband owns one complete livery stable, she still continues to behave like the Middle Classes. Her silk dresses are only nearly.” Jing-jing!! This from front door bell. Too bad I had to answer, because I was fascinated to hear that brutish remark of Hon. Bogles. Howeverly, I was dutiful as usual; so I elope to door-knob. There stood one lady wearing fashionable complexion. She poke forth following print on call-card: Mrs Cyrus Q. Bogle At Home When She Is. “Are Mrs Smith residing here this afternoon?” require Mrs Bogle. “Yes, if convenient,” I say to. “Are she too busy to appear?” “Yes. Thanks.” “Will she not appear to me, her dear-friend?” “No, Mrs Madam. Sorry. Too busy.” “Busy what with?” This from her. “She are employing a dressmake lady to gossip about you.” “Me!!” she exclam without sugar. Silence. “What stitches did this dressmake person take in my character?” she corrode. “She say your Aunt Angelica drink medicine.” “Truthfully, she does.” “She report your nephew Joshua eat cigarette-smudge.” “I might deny that uselessly.” “She describe your husband’s doggish habits.” “I also realise them.” “She explain how your dress contains flounced dimity with spaniels of heliotrope cut umpire-fashion at neck with--” “No more!” holla Mrs. Bogle dropping fire from her eyebrows. “Such reports are false as they are truthless. I permit neighbours to abuse my family, but when they distort my gowns I draw the string!” She done so by making door-bang and departing offward amidst furies. “Togo, who has came and went all at once?” require Hon. Mrs from upstairs. “Mrs Cy Q. Bogle, please.”