Blake, or even Mrs. Flaxman. Now that I had
quiet to think it over, it seemed like desecration to have the stolid,
phlegmatic Thomas talk about it.
He turned to me abruptly. "Have they never mentioned Mr. Winthrop's
trouble to you?"
"No, Thomas, they have not."
"Well, that's curious; but quality has different ways from nateral folks.
Well, you see, she was handsomer than any picture; looked as well as
you'd think an angel could look, and better dressed than they generally
seem to be; for any pictures I've seen of them they've only had a long
cloth around them without cut or pattern, and their wings. I've often
thought they weren't overhandy with the needle. And the day for the
wedding was sot." I stopped him there.
"Would you tell me this if you knew I should repeat all you said to Mr.
Winthrop?"
"I guess not; he'd turn me off without my dinner, if he knew."
"You may be sure I shall not tell him; but nevertheless it is not honest
for us to be talking on such a subject."
"I see you are like the rest of them. You seemed to have such a fellow
feeling for poor folks, we've concluded you were more like us than them."
"Perhaps I am, Thomas; but gentle or simple, we ought to be alike
honorable. The Bible has only one code of morals for us all."
"Very few that I know pays much attention to Bible rules. But here we are
at the Blakes'. I'll hitch the horse and carry in the bundles since you
want them left here. Hang it, if there ain't that ugly critter of Dan's
coming for us.
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