She was so earnest in her satire, so full of scorn and so serious in her
meaning, and there was such a contrast between what she said and her
person; she looked so preeminently the pretty marquise, all silks and
softness, the little exquisite, so essentially to be waited on and helped,
to have cloaks thrown over the dampness for her to tread upon, to be run
about for--he could see half a dozen youths rushing about for her ices,
for her carriage, for her chaperone, for her wrap, at dances--that to save
his life he could not repress a chuckle. He managed to make it inaudible,
however; and it was as well that he did.
"I understand your love of newspaper work," she went on, less vehemently,
but not less earnestly. "I have always wanted to do it myself, wanted to
immensely. I can't think of any more fascinating way of earning one's
living. And I know I could do it. Why don't you make the 'Herald' a
daily?"
To hear her speak of "earning one's living" was too much for him. She gave
the impression of riches, not only for the fine texture and fashioning of
her garments, but one felt that luxuries had wrapped her from her birth.
He had not had much time to wonder what she did in Plattville; it had
occurred to him that it was a little odd that she could plan to spend any
extent of time there, even if she had liked Minnie Briscoe at school. He
felt that she must have been sheltered and petted and waited on all her
life; one could not help yearning to wait on her.
He answered inarticulately, "Oh, some day," in reply to her question, and
then burst into outright laughter.
"I might have known you wouldn't take me seriously," she said with no
indignation, only a sad wistfulness. "I am well used to it. I think it is
because I am not tall; people take big girls with more gravity. Big people
are nearly always listened to."
"Listened to?" he said, and felt that he must throw himself on his knees
before her. "You oughtn't to mind being Titania. She was listened to,
you----"
She sprang to her feet and her eyes flashed. "Do you think personal
comment is ever in good taste?" she cried fiercely, and in his surprise he
almost fell off the bench. "If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is to
be told that I am 'small' I am not! Every one who isn't a giantess isn't
'small'. I hate personalities! I am a great deal over five feet, a
great deal more than that. I----"
"Please, please," he said, "I didn't----"
"Don't say you are sorry," she interrupted, and in spite of his contrition
he found her angry voice delicious, it was still so sweet, hot with
indignation, but ringing, not harsh. "Don't say you didn't mean it;
because you did! You can't unsay it, you cannot alter it! Ah!" She drew in
her breath with a sharp sigh, and covering her face with her hands, sank
back upon the bench. "I will not cry," she said, not so firmly as she
thought she did.