are irreparable. If Mr. Plowden left a legitimate wife in England, then what is my position? What am I?"
"The divorce court," said Mrs. Rutherford, "is as open to you as to me."
"But I don't want a divorce from my Robert," sobbed the "willowy" and now weeping Gertrude.
"And you don't need any if he has really been guilty of bigamy," added the practical Mrs. Honey.
"Oh, I'm sure he did not intend to deceive me. He must have married me by mistake."
"Married by mistake! That's a new way of marrying. Ha, ha!" laughed Miss Fithian, scornfully.
"I am willing," continued Mrs. Plowden, unheeding the old maid's taunting laugh, "to wait for his explanation before condemning him, if he would only come back and make it; but I fear he may never do so. Even now I tremble to think that he may be behind prison bars."
"If so," replied Mrs. Wildfen, "he at least is well fed and warm, no doubt, while my poor Steve is wandering over the frozen roads, in the snow, houseless, hungry – and on Christmas, of all days in the year."
"What a wretched quarrel, when there should be 'peace on earth, good-will to men'!" commented Mrs. Honey. "I could find it in my heart to forgive William, if only for the sake of the season."
None of the ladies felt "up" to going to church, so they passed the time, until luncheon was served, speculating upon what had become of the gentlemen, and how they were faring. When they returned to the library, and were talking there, the Indian-like ear of Mrs. Rutherford caught unwonted sounds in the dining-room, and she quickly glided into the hall-way to learn the cause of the violent clattering of dishes, scuffling of feet, and masculine coughing she heard. Darting into the dining-room, she surprised Sam (was the artful Sam surprised?) in the act of clearing the remains of the luncheon from the table and packing them into a large market-basket.
"Why, Sam!" she demanded, "what does this mean?"
"Fo' de Lawd, missus, I dassent tell," he replied, affecting great confusion.
"You must. I insist upon it. Where are you going with that basket of food?"
"Well, missus, ef I must 'fess, I 'fess. I gwine take it to mars'r. I'se on'y a pore ole nigger, but I can't let de gemmen starve, specially young mars'r."
"Where is he?"
"In de billiard-house, missus. All de gemmen dah. Dey's mose starbe', mose froze; don't hab nuffin but cole stuff dis mawnin. Mars'r look mighty sick, an' I reck'n dat ole man, Mars'r Plowden, he mose done gone."
"Sam," said Mrs. Rutherford, with her usual impulsiveness, "after you have taken that basket to them, come back to me. In the meantime, I will consult with my friends as to what steps to take. But say nothing to the gentlemen about this until I bid you."
"No, missus," replied Sam, shuffling off with his load, and wearing a knowing smile on his honest black face. While the husbands were discussing the viands he carried to them, their wives were discussing the new situation of affairs.
"Ladies," said Mrs. Rutherford, after informing them of the whereabouts of their spouses, "you are all at liberty to invite your husbands back here to dinner; whether you do so or not is for each of you to decide for herself. As for me, Mr. Rutherford said he would never return, and I am not going to ask him to."
"We all, in the heat of passion, say things," replied Mrs. Honey, "which at the time we think we mean, but for which we are afterwards sorry. Did not William say he left me forever?"
"No," answered Mrs. Wildfen, "he said 'wunst an' hallways.'"
"That's unkind of you, Lydia," remarked the gentle Gertrude. "What does it matter whether a man spells his heart with an 'h' or an 'a,' so long as it is in the right place? – as I am sure Mr. Honey's is."
"Thank you, my dear," responded Mrs. Honey, with moistening eyes. "Your good husband can never have committed the crime imputed to him."
"Nor mine either, I suppose you think?" queried Mrs. Rutherford; to which the schoolmistress replied that that certainly was what she did think.
"Oh, yes," sneered Miss Fithian; "you're all in the melting mood. You'll get down on your knees and beg 'em to come back and trample on you."
Mrs. Honey smiled as she remarked: "They must, by this time, be too famished to trample much. I know that must be my husband's condition. With his enormous appetite I think he must be now about starved into submission, if not penitence."
"Remember, it is Christmas, and we should forgive and forget," said Mrs. Plowden. "Suppose we unite in an invitation to them to come to dinner to-day."
"Good!" eagerly responded Mrs. Honey, "and send it by Sam, with a flag of truce."
"Yes, and put in that we will undertake to keep the peace during dinner," added Mrs. Plowden.
"Say rather," suggested Mrs. Rutherford, "that we will preserve an armed neutrality."
"No, no, that's too warlike," protested Mrs. Honey; "I will draw up a pacific invitation, and we will all sign it."
"I won't," promptly objected Mrs. Wildfen. "At least, I won't put my name first. That would look as if I had flung down my arms and surrendered unconditionally."
"What then shall we do to preserve our dignity and get them back?" piteously asked Mrs. Plowden. "Rob and I had no quarrel, and I want him – bigamist or no bigamist."
"Mrs. Plowden! I am shocked! and will no longer remain under the same roof with you!" exclaimed Miss Fithian. "Edna, I am going to order Jim to hitch up the sleigh and drive me to the depot. I shall go to cousin Melinda's."
Mrs. Rutherford made a feeble show of urging her to remain until after dinner, but she replied: "No, no; I will not sit at table with your hypocrite and that woman's bigamist."
Said Mrs. Rutherford coldly, "Then I fear that we will have to be deprived of the pleasure of your society."
As soon as order was again restored, after Miss Fithian's unregretted departure, Mrs. Honey took up the interrupted theme. "Suppose, then," she said, thoughtfully, "as no one seems willing to sign first, that we draw up a 'round-robin' which we can all sign, without either seeming to lead."
"I won't," again objected Mrs. Wildfen – "not until I know what a 'round-robin' is."
"It is a paper to which signatures are affixed in a surrounding circle, so that the precedence of all is equal."
"Oh, I'll sign that!" "So will I!" "And I!" responded the other wives.
This then was the form in which Mrs. Honey drew up the invitation, and the signatures were affixed.
When completed, and addressed "To the gentlemen in the pavilion," it was handed to Sam for delivery, and he went off chuckling over the success of his ruse in attracting attention to his foray upon the luncheon-table. In a short time he brought back a verbal acceptance of the invitation.
Mrs. Honey had constituted herself leader of the feminine discontents. When they were marshalled in the dining-room, awaiting their guests, she thus addressed them:
"Ladies, now let us preserve a calm, cold, and dignified demeanor, so as to let them understand that we have simply taken compassion upon them, not as husbands, but as men, and in the name of a common humanity."
"Exactly," assented Mrs. Rutherford. "No beggar, especially at this season, should be turned away either cold or hungry from my door."
The speech addressed by Mr. Rutherford to his friends and partners in adversity was quite in consonance with that uttered by Mrs. Honey.
"Gentlemen," said he, "do not let us show elation or be too eager to forgive our wives, but bear ourselves as just men who, having received overtures for peace, are willing to grant proper consideration to proffered terms of capitulation."
Following their host, Wildfen and Honey supported between them Mr. Plowden, who when he entered the dining-room seemed much cheered by the absence of Miss Fithian. No word was spoken as the husbands entered, and in stern silence each retook the seat he had occupied on Christmas Eve. The turkey – a grand bird, yellow-meated and tender from fattening on English