circle she had the air of a cat daintily licking its chops over some titbit.
“I suppose,” she said, “that you have heard the news?”
She knew perfectly well that they had not. Every other woman at the frame stopped quilting. Mrs. Eben came to the door with a pan of puffy, smoking-hot soda biscuits in her hand. Sara stopped counting her custard dishes, and turned her ripely-colored face over her shoulder. Even the black cat, at her feet, ceased preening his fur. Mrs. George felt that the undivided attention of her audience was hers.
“Baxter Brothers have failed,” she said, her green eyes shooting out flashes of light. “Failed disgracefully!”
She paused for a moment; but, since her hearers were as yet speechless from surprise, she went on.
“George came home from Newbridge, just before I left, with the news. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I should have thought that firm was as steady as the rock of Gibraltar! But they’re ruined — absolutely ruined. Louisa, dear, can you find me a good needle?”
“Louisa, dear,” had set her biscuits down with a sharp thud, reckless of results. A sharp, metallic tinkle sounded at the closet where Sara had struck the edge of her tray against a shelf. The sound
