Nelly Kirkpatrick was a great, red-haired giant
of a woman, very illiterate, but with some native wit, and good-
hearted enough, I am told, when she was in her right mind.
She always followed the lead of Mr. Gorham (whose name, you see,
came before hers in the call), and a look from him was generally
sufficient to quiet her when she was inclined to be noisy.
When the resolutions declaring the war a failure were introduced,
the party excitement ran higher than ever. The "lunch-room" (as
they called it--I never went there but once, the title having
deceived me) in the basement-story of the State House was crowded
during the discussion, and every time Nelly Kirkpatrick came up,
her face was a shade deeper red. Mr. Gorham's nods and winks were
of no avail--speak she would, and speak she did, not so very
incoherently, after all, but very abusively. To be sure, you would
never have guessed it, if you had read the quiet and dignified
report in the papers on her side, the next day.
THEN Mrs. Whiston's patience broke down. "Mr.
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