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I've been feeling bad about it, Persis, a good while, but I hain't had the heart to speak of it. I can't expect you to say you like it. I've been a fool, I'll allow, and I've been something worse, if you choose to say so; but that's all. I haven't hurt anybody but myself and you and the children." Mrs.
Persis, who was intensely alive to every phase of the dramatic situation, had caught a glimpse of the young fellow's face during the affectionate leave-taking and was abundantly satisfied. "Thad's no fool, though he's acted like the twin brother to an idiot. He can't help seeing that the mother of a grown-up girl like Diantha hadn't ought to be flirting with a boy like him.
"While he's not an old man yet, he feels that he's done his share of work. If there's a good time waiting for him, he means to get to it before he's so old it won't do him any good." "Sometimes I think," observed Persis sententiously, "that enjoying one's self's a good deal like jam. You spread it on bread and butter, and you can eat a sight of it.
But I says to Bartholomew this very day, 'I'm going to run over to Persis Dale's after supper, says I, 'to see if she can't let me have some pieces of white goods left over from her dressmaking. You're doing a good deal in white this time of the year, as a rule," concluded Mrs. Trotter, a greedy look coming into her eyes.
In the bright, prosaic little sitting-room she looked as out of place as a Raphael's cherub in a kindergarten, a creature unmistakably belonging to another sphere. "Dear Persis," breathed Mrs. Richards, and extended a transparent hand. "You'll forgive my not getting up," she added gently. "Don't mention it." Persis' ringing tones had a heartiness which seemed plebeian contrasted with Mrs.
And it'll be the kind," Persis promised solemnly, "that'll make Clematis sit up and take notice." Neither of the lovers spoke. Gazing down the winding road with the dreamy air of one who sees beautiful visions, Persis broke the tense silence. "I've given up dressmaking for good, but there's one dress I'm willing to break my rule for, and that's Diantha Sinclair's wedding gown.
Got a seal ring and silk lining to his overcoat. He ain't what you call a flashy dresser, but he lays it all over the young chaps like Thad West who think they're so swell." Persis listened without comment. She had worked unusually hard that week, and the tired lines of her face acknowledged as much.
"Dare I? I can set things straight at once if I do. Persis will be wild with me for going off without a word, but I'll I'll chance it!" She ran into the hall, slipped into her motoring coat, and, throwing discretion to the winds, walked out to the front of the house and quickly up to the car. "How soon can you drive me to Sapworth Hall?" she asked, getting in and pulling the rug around her.
His mood softened when at length appetizing odors diffusing themselves through the house, indicated that the pot roast of day before yesterday which under Persis' thrifty management had as many final appearances as a prima donna, was soon to grace the table as an Irish stew.
"She's playing he's her little boy," explained Mary, making the most of the sensation of being an actor in a real drama. "She fed him his soup and slopped him, but he took me up sharp when I tried to stop her. He acts as if she's got him clean bewitched." "Well!" exclaimed Mrs. West, as Persis looked at her dumbly. "I never expected to live to see that Scripture fulfilled.
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