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"What's the matter?" insisted Patricia, nudging her to compel her attention, but Judith's gaze was wandering all about in search of Elinor, and she answered absently. "There she is, up on the stand with Griffin," she murmured in dismay. "I can never let her know. I wish I could catch her eye; can't you signal her, Miss Pat? You're taller than I am." The words cut the air with an incisive clearness that left no shadow of a doubt, though Patricia could scarcely credit her own ears. "Well, from all my long experience, Molly," she said as she seated herself and began to hem a tea-cloth with long steady stabs, "husbands are just like sticks of candy in different jars. They may look a little different, but they all taste alike, and you soon get tired of them. In two months you won't know the difference in being married to Alfred Bennett and Mr. Carter, and you'll have to go on living with him maybe fifty years. Luck doesn't strike twice in the same place, and you can't count on losing two husbands. Alfred's father was Mr. Johnson's first cousin and had more crotchets and worse. He had silent spells that lasted a week, and altogether gave his family a bad time of it. Alfred looks very much like him.".
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The idea lodged in Patricia's fertile brain was not so easily routed out. "Well, major," said Mrs. Dallas, after the first greetings were over, "what did that wicked man say to you yesterday?" "You'll know everything to-morrow.' Mrs. Dallas was about to speak, when the negress silenced her with a look, and raised her head proudly..
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