The dinner came to an untimely end; and almost immediately Mercy, with a nervous and embarrassed air, totally foreign to her, said to her mother,-- "We must go home now.

I have letters to write." Mrs.Carr was disappointed.

She had anticipated a long afternoon of chatty gossip with her neighbor; but she saw that Mercy had some strong reason for hurrying home, and she acquiesced unhesitatingly.
Mrs.White did not urge them to remain.

To all Mrs.White's faults it must be confessed that she added the virtue of absolute sincerity.
"Good-afternoon, Mrs.Carr," and "Good-afternoon, Mrs.Philbrick," fell from her lips in the same measured syllables and the same cold, unhuman voice which had so startled Mercy once before.
"What a perfectly horrid old woman!" exclaimed Mercy, as soon as they had crossed the threshold of their own door.

"I'll never go near her again as long as I live!" "Why, Mercy Carr!" exclaimed her mother, "what do you mean?
I don't think so.