"Polly, Polly," breaks in Lottie excitedly, "do you think Mr. Armstrong and Addie have come to that? Do you think he runs pins into her, pinches her when we're not looking? Oh"--after a pause, with a burst of relief--"I don't believe it! Because, if he did, she'd pinch him back; I know she would. She is not like Mrs. Greene; she has a spirit of her own, has Addie. She'd pinch him back just as hard, and then we should find out."
"Lottie, don't argue like a fool! I never said Armstrong ill-used her actively, never said he was a born brute like Adolphus Greene, though he is not the style of a man I should care to call husband. I give him his due, and honestly believe he would not touch a hair of her head unkindly, no matter what provocation he got. No; what I mean is that they have simply found out that they are utterly unsuited to each other--had a bit of difference, perhaps. I dare say he taxed her with marrying him for his money, and she answered back something of the kind; and the upshot was, they determined to hide their discovery from every one, even from us, which was a vain and foolish resolve so far as I am concerned."
"I should like to know, I should like to find out," murmurs Lottie fervently. "I'll watch them closely, I'll ask Addie questions when she's off her guard, I'll--"
"Lottie," cries Pauline sharply, facing her sister, "if you attempt to do anything of that kind, if you ever by word, look, or act, betray what I have so foolishly confided to you, you will rue the day to the end of your life! Do you hear me? You don't know what mischief you'll do. You are an unfortunate child at the best of times, Lottie; you seldom come into a room without making some one uncomfortable with your luckless remarks and questions."
"I don't mean to make them uncomfortable," she answers tearfully.
"I don't say you do; but the effect is the same. And, in this case, if you thrust yourself into the fray, you will simply ruin us all."
"You will just spring the mine on which our present prosperity flourishes, and bring us to the wall again. We're very well off just at present. Though it is not necessary to proclaim the fact from the house-tops--Bob may grumble as he likes about the desecrating breath of vitriol and all that--I maintain--and am not ashamed to do so--that the new state of affairs suits my constitution and my tastes better than the old. It is far pleasanter to be well fed, well clothed, well housed, than not; pleasanter any day to partake of stalled ox than a dish of herbs; to lie on patent spring beds than on mattresses teased in the reign of James the First; pleasanter to tread the earth in satin shoes than in cobblers' clogs. To bring the case nearer to your heart and understanding, Goggles, it is pleasanter to nibble plum-cake than dry bread, isn't it?"