One, large and buxom with a headscarf knotted tightly under a row of double chins, stood with her arms resting on her hips, where they had ample accommodation. “Would you take one look at that window,” she demanded of her companion. “Isn’t it a pure disgrace?”“It is indeed, Biddy,” her friend agreed. The companion was a direct contrast to Biddy. She was small, pale and wispy, with a look of perpetual agreement on her face.“Wouldn’t you think now that they would do something about it and they living on the side of the street where everyone can see them and all?” Biddy declared. “That house is a disgrace to the village and it right on the corner in the centre of everything. She can’t be much of a housekeeper to have a window like that,” she concluded.They say that eavesdroppers never hear well of themselves, and Biddy had just proved the truth of that maxim, giving me an earful of something that I did not want to hear. The fact that she was right made it all the more indigestible.
