At the end of every needle she drew a deep breath, and felt the stocking carefully to make sure there were no "nubs" in it.

She talked about the "severe drowth" and some painful cases of sickness, after which she took out her snuff-box, and then the three ladies saw that she had something particular to say.
"Where is your little boy, Maria ?" She always called Mrs.Clifford Maria, for she had known her from a baby.
"Horace is at Augusta; I left him there the other day." "Yes," said Polly, settling her mournful black cap, "so I heard! I was very, very sorry," and she shook her head dolefully, as if it had been a bell and she were tolling it--"very, very sorry!" Mrs.Clifford could not but wonder why.
"It is a dreadful thing to happen in a family! I'm sure, Maria, I never heard that stealing was natural to either side of the house!" "Stealing!" echoed Mrs.Clifford.
"What in this world can you mean, Polly Whiting ?" said Aunt Louise, laughing nervously; for she was a very lively young lady, and laughed a great deal.

Miss Whiting thought this was no time for jokes.

Her mouth twitched downward as if there were strings at the corners.

Mrs.Clifford had turned very pale.
"Poll," said she, "do speak, and tell me what you have heard?
It is all a mystery to me." "You don't say so," said Miss Whiting, looking relieved.