'Oh, she knows that I know.'
'Well, we know what Mrs. Peck knows,' one of the ladies of the group observed to me, with an air of privilege.
'Well, you wouldn't know if I hadn't told you—from the way she acts,' said Mrs. Peck, with a small laugh.
'She is going out to a gentleman who lives over there—he's waiting there to marry her,' the other lady went on, in the tone of authentic information. I remember that her name was Mrs. Gotch and that her mouth looked always as if she were whistling.
'Oh, he knows—I've told him,' said Mrs. Peck.
'Well, I presume every one knows,' Mrs. Gotch reflected.
'Dear madam, is it every one's business?' I asked.
'Why, don't you think it's a peculiar way to act?' Mrs. Gotch was evidently surprised at my little protest.
'Why, it's right there—straight in front of you, like a play at the theatre—as if you had paid to see it,' said Mrs. Peck. 'If you don't call it public———!'
'Aren't you mixing things up? What do you call public?'
'Why, the way they go on. They are up there now.'
'They cuddle up there half the night,' said Mrs. Gotch. 'I don't know when they come down. Any hour you like—when all the lights are out they are up there still.'
'Oh, you can't tire them out. They don't want relief—like the watch!' laughed one of the gentlemen.
'Well, if they enjoy each other's society what's
