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"I should think you'd pick out a good novel to read," went on her mother. "That last one I got from the library it's about a beautiful woman that counted the world well lost for love." Winona murmured indistinctly. "She didn't she didn't stop at anything," added the mother, brightly. "Oh, Mother!" "I don't care!
He dozed through much of this instruction. Yet Winona, the next day, felt repaid for her pains. Arrayed in the new suit, with the modish collar and cravat, the luminous shoes and the hat of merit, the boy looked entirely like those careless youths in the pictures who so proudly proclaim the make of their garments.
With dainty brazenness the small hand at her knee obeyed an amazing command from her disordered brain and raised the neat brown skirt of Winona a full two inches, to reveal a slim ankle between which and an ogling world there gleamed but the thinnest veneer of tan silk. Winona waited breathless. She had tortured herself with the possible consequences of this adventure.
Winona had unaccustomed flowers in the parlour now not tuberoses, but almost as bad. Until a quarter to three he expertly shuffled and dawdled and evaded. Then Winona took a stand with him. "Wilbur Cowan, go at once and dress yourself properly! Do you expect to appear before the Whipples that way?" He vanished in a flurry of seeming obedience.
Ridout, the counsel of the Northeastern and of the Winona Corporation in the capital, to pay his respects as a man of affairs, and incidentally to leave copies of his bills for the improvement of the State. Mr. Ridout was politely interested, and promised to read the bills, and agreed that they ought to pass. Mr.
"Well, I'd like to know what we're coming to," he grumbled. "The idee of a mere chit like her goin' out to a place that's no better than a saloon, even if you do guzzle your drinks at a table and in a dug-out dress!" Winona, instead of feeling rebuked, was gratified to be called a mere chit. She pouted at the invalid.
She had to feign an errand to the kitchen stove, and came back dropping the edge of her apron from her eyes. Winona was exalted; she felt that her careful training of the child had raised him to this eminence, and she rejoiced in it as a tribute to her capacity. Her labours had been richly rewarded. Dave Cowan alone seemed not to be enough impressed by the honours heaped upon his son.
At twenty-eight Winona was not only perfected in the grammar of morals, more than ever alert for infractions of the merely social code, but her ideals of refinement and elegance had become more demanding. She would have had the boy engage in a pursuit that would require clean hands and smart apparel and bring him in contact with people of the right sort.
I was even weak enough to remark: "Winona, my dear, you look this evening handsome enough to eat."
As she uttered these words, the canoe touched the shore in the immediate vicinity of the high precipitous crag of which a description has been before given. Heedless of her complaints, and wearied out with what they regarded as a most unreasonable repugnance, her parents at the moment decreed that Winona should that very day be united to the warrior.
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