We learned in school
about the Athenians hating some man who was always called just, and that's
the way I felt about Joe. Whenever I did anything that wasn't quite right
his mother would say how differently Joe would have done it. And she was
forever telling me that Joe didn't approve of this and that and the other.
When we were alone he approved of everything, but when his mother was
round he'd sit quiet and let her say he didn't. I knew he'd let me have my
way afterwards, but somehow that didn't prevent my getting mad at the
time.
"And then the evenings were so long, with Joe away, and Mrs. Glenn (that's
his mother) sitting there like an image knitting socks for the heathen.
The only caller we ever had was the Baptist minister, and he never took
any more notice of me than if I'd been a piece of furniture. I believe he
was afraid to before Mrs. Glenn."
She paused breathlessly, and the tears in her eyes were now of anger.
"Well?" said Woburn gently.
"Well--then Arthur Hackett came along; he was travelling for a big
publishing firm in Philadelphia. He was awfully handsome and as clever and
sarcastic as anything. He used to lend me lots of novels and magazines,
and tell me all about society life in New York. All the girls were after
him, and Alice Sprague, whose father is the richest man in Hinksville,
fell desperately in love with him and carried on like a fool; but he
wouldn't take any notice of her. He never looked at anybody but me.
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