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Updated: June 27, 2025
Tracey struggled perceptibly. The words, when they came, were blurted. "Ah... I was only thinkin' 'bout Angie." "Do you ever think about anything else?" "No," Tracey admitted honestly, "not much. But I was wonderin' " "Well?" "Are you stuck on Angie, Mr. Duncan?" demanded Tracey desperately. "Great snakes! I hope not!" He lifted a reverent hand to the card.
Willa was not left in doubt for long. She had scarcely finished her preparations for the night and was braiding her long black hair into a massive rope, when a light, brittle tapping came upon her door. Almost before the wondering assent had left her lips, Angie slipped in and stood before her. She was still in her spangled dance frock and her round blue eyes were snapping fire.
I was once, when master of a whaler, nearly killed in a conflict with a whale; in fact, I am accustomed to speak of it paradoxically or shall I say hyperbolically as 'The time when I was killed! My account of it made a great impression upon Angie; but I will read: "'Upon the deep and foaming brine, My Judah's blood was spilled. The anguished tears gush from my eyes. O Judah, wast thou killed?
There they were, the three of them: Old Man Hatton with his back to the fire, looking benignly down upon her; Angie seated, with some knitting in her hands, as if entertaining bedraggled, tear-stained young ladies at dusk were an everyday occurrence; Tessie, twisting her handkerchief in a torment of embarrassment. But they asked no questions, these two.
They all spoke at once, in short sentences, their voices high with the note of hysteria. "Angie Hatton's beau was killed " "They say his aireoplane fell ten thousan' feet " "The news come only last evenin' about eight " "She won't see nobody but her pa " Eight! At eight Tessie had been standing outside Hatton's house envying Angie and hating her.
Her own conscience was not quite clear for she had permitted Wiley to show his hand without stopping to think of Angie, so determined had she been to learn the depths to which this man would descend in his ruthless self-seeking.
He overheard first, distinctly, Betty responding in expressionless voice: "Hello, Angie.... Hello, Josie." There ensued what seemed a slightly awkward pause. Then Josie, painfully sweet: "Did you get the invitation, Betty?" Betty moved into Duncan's range of vision, apparently intending to come and call him.
"I'd like to learn to swim and row a boat and play tennis like the rich girls like the girls that's making such a fuss over the soldiers." Angie Hatton was not laughing. So, after a moment's hesitation, Tessie brought out the worst of it. "And French. I'd like to learn to talk French." Old Man Hatton had been surveying his shoes, his mouth grim. He looked at Angie now and smiled a little.
"Oh, my, no! I just thought I'd dress up in case Angie Hatton drove past in her auto and picked me up for a little ride. So's not to keep her waiting." Angie Hatton was Old Man Hatton's daughter. Anyone in the Fox River Valley could have told you who Old Man Hatton was.
They evinced no curiosity about this dishevelled creature who had flung herself in upon their decent solitude. Tessie stared at the fire. She looked up at Old Man Hatton's face and opened her lips. She looked down and shut them again. Then she flashed a quick look at Angie, to see if she could detect there some suspicion, some disdain. None.
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