he garment
she was ripping with an astute air, as if she were about to circumvent
it into being a new dress by some surprising act of legerdemain. Mrs.
Scudder walked to the looking-glass and began changing her bonnet cap
for a tea-table one.

Miss Prissy, after a while, commenced in a mysterious tone.

"Miss Scudder, I know folks like me shouldn't have their eyes open too
wide, but then I can't help noticing some things. Did you see the
Doctor's face when we was talking to him about Mary? Why, he colored all
up and the tears came into his eyes. It's my belief that that blessed
man worships the ground she treads on. I don't mean _worships_,
either,--'cause that would be wicked, and he's too good a man to make a
graven image of anything,--but it's clear to see that there a'n't
anybody in the world like Mary to him. I always did think so; but I used
to think Mary was such a little poppet--that she'd do better for--Well,
you know, I thought about some younger man;--but, laws, now I see how
she rises up to be ahead of everybody, and is so kind of solemn-like. I
can't but see the leadings of Providence. What a minister's wife she'd
be, Miss Scudder!--why, all the ladies coming out of prayer-meeting were
speaking of it. You see, they want the Doctor to get married;--it seems
more comfortable-like to have ministers married; one feels more free to
open their exercises of mind; and as Miss Deacon Twitchel said to
me,--'If the Lord had made a woman o' purpose, as he did for Adam, he
wouldn't have made her a bit different from Mary Scudder.' Why, the
oldest of us would follow her lead,--'cause she goes before us without
knowing it."

"I feel that the Lord has greatly blessed me in such a child," said Mrs.
Scudder, "and I feel disposed to wait the leadings of Providence."

"Just exactly," said Miss Prissy, giving a shake to her silk; "and as
Miss Twitchel said, in this case every providence seems to p'int. I felt
dreadfully for her along six months back; but now I see how she's been
brought out, I begin to see that things are for the best, perhaps, after
all. I can't help feeling that Jim Marvyn is gone to heaven, poor
fellow! His father is a deacon,--and such a good man!--and Jim, though
he did make a great laugh wherever he went, and sometimes laughed where
he hadn't ought to, was a noble-hearted fellow. Now, to be sure, as the
Doctor says, 'amiable instincts a'n't true holiness'; but then they are
better than unamiable ones,