The instant that the two ladies
confronted each other, each realized that each concealed something
from the other. This discovery instantly made Mrs. Meredith cooler
still; it rendered Mrs. Conyers more cordial.
"Isabel regretted that she could not come."
"I am sorry." The tone called for the dismissal of the subject.
"This is scarcely a visit to you," Mrs. Conyers went on; "I have
been paying one of my usual pastoral calls: I have been to Ambrose
Webb's to see if my cows are ready to return to town. Strawberries
are ripe and strawberries call for more cream, and more cream calls
for more calves, and more calves call for--well, we have all heard
them! I do not understand how a man who looks like Ambrose can so
stimulate cattle. Of course my cows are not as fine and fat as
Rowan's--that is not to be expected. The country is looking very
beautiful. I never come for a drive without regretting that I live
in town." (She would have found the country intolerable for the
same reason that causes criminals to flock to cities.)
Constraint deepened as the visit was prolonged. Mrs. Conyers
begged Mrs. Meredith for a recipe that she knew to be bad; and when
Mrs. Meredith had left the room for it, she rose and looked eagerly
out of the windows for any sign of Rowan. When Mrs. Meredith
returned, for the same reason she asked to be taken into the
garden, which was in its splendor of bloom. Mrs. Meredith culled
for her a few of the most resplendent blossoms--she could not have
offered to any one anything less.
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