She was still tormenting herself about the prospect of Phoebe's loss
of teeth, when, in passing through her elegantly-furnished parlors,
her eyes fell on a pale acid stain, about the size of a shilling
piece, one of the rich figures in the carpet. The color of this
figure was maroon, and the stain, in consequence, distinct; at
least, it became very distinct to her eye as they dwelt upon it as
if held there by a kind of fascination.
Indeed, for a while, Mrs. Caldwell could see nothing else but this
spot on the carpet; no, not even though she turned her eyes in
various directions, the retina keeping that image to the exclusion
of all others.
While yet in the gall of this new bitterness, Mrs. Caldwell heard a
carriage stop in front of the house, and, glancing through the
window, saw that it was on the opposite side of the street. She knew
it to be the carriage of a lady whose rank made her favor a
desirable thing to all who were emulous of social distinction. To be
of her set was a coveted honor. For her friend and neighbor
opposite, Mrs. Caldwell did not feel the highest regard; and it
rather hurt her to see the first call made in that quarter, instead
of upon herself.
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