"He's real nice-lookin', ain't he?
"Yes."
"Have you got your eye on anybody else?"
"No."
"Then, Miss Thorne, I don't know's you could do better."
"Perhaps not." She was thinking, and spoke mechanically. From where she
stood she could still see him walking rapidly down the hill.
"Ain't you never seen him before?"
Miss Thorne turned. "Hepsey," she said, coldly, "please go into the
kitchen and attend to your work. And the next time I have company,
please stay in the kitchen--not in the dining-room."
"Yes'm," replied Hepsey, meekly, hastening to obey.
She was not subtle, but she understood that in some way she had offended
Miss Thorne, and racked her brain vainly. She had said nothing that
she would not have said to Miss Hathaway, and had intended nothing but
friendliness. As for her being in the dining-room--why, very often, when
Miss Hathaway had company, she was called in to give her version of
some bit of village gossip. Miss Hathaway scolded her when she was
displeased, but never before had any one spoken to Hepsey in a measured,
icy tone that was at once lady-like and commanding. Tears came into her
eyes, for she was sensitive, after all.
A step sounded overhead, and Hepsey regained her self-possession. She
had heard nearly all of the conversation and could have told Miss Thorne
a great deal about the young man. For instance, he had not said that he
was boarding at Joe's, across the road from Miss Ainslie's, and that
he intended to stay all Summer. She could have told her of an uncertain
temper, peculiar tastes, and of a silver shaving-cup which Joe had
promised her a glimpse of before the visitor went back to the city; but
she decided to let Miss Thorne go on in her blind ignorance.
Ruth, meanwhile, was meditating, with an aggravated restlessness. The
momentary glimpse of the outer world had stung her into a sense of
her isolation, which she realised even more keenly than before. It was
because of this, she told herself, that she hoped Winfield liked her,
for it was not her wont to care about such trifles. He thought of her,
idly, as a nice girl, who was rather pretty when she was interested in
anything; but, with a woman's insight, influenced insensibly by Hepsey's
comment, Ruth scented possibilities.
She wanted him to like her, to stay in that miserable village as long as
she did, and keep her mind from stagnation--her thought went no further
than that. In October, when they went back, she would thank Carlton,
prettily, for sending her a friend--provided they did not quarrel. She
could see long days of intimate companionship, of that exalted kind
which is, possible only when man and woman meet on a high plane. "We're
both too old for nonsense," she thought; and then a sudden fear struck
her, that Winfield might be several years younger than she was.