And I thought she muttered something to herself as she went away.
Not five minutes elapsed before word came to my room that Mrs.
Jordon was in the parlor and wished to speak to me.
"Now for trouble," thought I.Sure enough, when I entered the parlor, the knit brow, flushed face, and angry eyes of my neighbor told me that there was to be a scene.
"Mrs.Smith," she began, without ceremony or apology for her abruptness of manner, "I should like to know what you mean by the manner in which you refused to let me have a little flour just now ?" "How did I refuse ?" I was cool enough to inquire.
"You refused in a manner which plainly enough snowed that you thought me a troublesome borrower.

'What's wanted now ?' I think rather strange language to use to a domestic of mine." Really, thought I, this caps the climax.
"To speak the plain truth, Mrs.Jordon," said I, "and not wishing to give any offence, you do use the privilege of a neighbor in this respect rather freely--more freely, I must own, than I feel justified in doing." "Mrs.Smith, this is too much!" exclaimed Mrs.Jordon.

"Why you borrow of me twice where I borrow of you once.

I am particularly careful in matters of this kind." I looked at the woman with amazement.
"Borrow of you ?" I asked.
"Certainly!" she replied, with perfect coolness.

"Scarcely a day passes that you do not send in for something or other.