Mrs. Plummer and Mrs. King, thoroughly frightened, hastily edged around the room towards the door, keeping as great distance as was possible between them and Mimi, who slowly circled her body so that her eyes remained upon them. The two gossips hurried through the little knot which had gathered at the door, drawn there by the commotion. As the door shut behind them Mimi sank into her chair and wept as Mrs. Adams came in and put her arms about her. …
Down the street hurried two indignant, surprised women. Mrs. Plummer speculated plaintively in an aggrieved tone as she panted her way homeward.
“I wonder what was the matter with her,” she asked her companion. “We didn’t say nothing to make her r’ar and tear like that—and over her dead father’s body at that! Some folks sho’ is funny!”
“Mis’ Plummer,” her companion declared portentously, “it’s the truth that hurts! You remember the old sayin’s, ‘The hit dog yelps!’ and ‘Where there’s smoke there’s fire!’ Guess we weren’t so far wrong at that … Guess that gal will bear watchin’.” …
Early the next morning Mrs. Rogers came. As she entered the house Mimi rushed to meet her. Her aunt took her in her arms, murmuring gentle words of consolation to Mimi, who felt instantly the presence of a friend and ally. Mrs. Rogers was of medium height, younger than Jean but so like her brother that Jean seemed only a replica to which white, close-cropped hair, a moustache and a little beard had been added.
“Poor, dear Mimi,” she whispered, her eyes wet. She pressed Mimi to her in a warm outpouring of real affection, affection which sprang into existence unreservedly, binding them together in a flash of understanding and love. …
Mimi and her aunt talked a long time together just before Mrs. Rogers returned to New York two days after the funeral.