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Updated: April 30, 2025
He heard the swing-couch creak as she sat up abruptly, peered, then leaned back and pretended to relax. "Be nice to have some cool beer. Just drop in for a second," he insisted, as he opened the Dyer gate. Mrs. Bogart was calling upon Carol, protected by Aunt Bessie Smail. "Have you heard about this awful woman that's supposed to have come here to do dressmaking a Mrs.
"Ma Bogart cussed her out all morning, did she? Jumped her neck, eh? Ma certainly is one hell-cat." "Yes, you know how she is; so vicious." "Oh no, her best style ain't her viciousness. What she pulls in our store is to come in smiling with Christian Fortitude and keep a clerk busy for one hour while she picks out half a dozen fourpenny nails. I remember one time " "Sam!" Carol was uneasy.
"You'll fight for Fern, won't you? When Mrs. Bogart came to see you did she make definite charges?" "Well, yes, you might say she did." "But the school-board won't act on them?" "Guess we'll more or less have to." "But you'll exonerate Fern?" "I'll do what I can for the girl personally, but you know what the board is.
I never notice much. Oh, they do kid me about not being in the army especially the old warhorses, the old men that aren't going themselves. And this Bogart boy. And Mr. Hicks's son he's a horrible brat. But probably he's licensed to say what he thinks about his father's hired man!" "He's beastly!" They were in town. They passed Aunt Bessie's house. Aunt Bessie and Mrs.
Boarding with the Widow Bogart was Fern Mullins, a girl of twenty-two who was to be teacher of English, French, and gymnastics in the high school this coming session. Fern Mullins had come to town early, for the six-weeks normal course for country teachers. Carol had noticed her on the street, had heard almost as much about her as about Erik Valborg.
The narrator turned, saw a woman near and, not being a common person nor a coarse workman but a clever salesman and a householder, lowered his voice for the rest of the tale. During it the other man laughed hoarsely. Carol turned off on a side-street. She passed Cy Bogart.
I think he's got lots more style than these town boys. You like him all right, don't you?" So the picnic of Carol, Fern, Erik, Cy Bogart, and the Dyers was not only moral but inevitable. They drove to the birch grove on the south shore of Lake Minniemashie. Dave Dyer was his most clownish self. He infected the others.
Couldn't stand it." "Well You mustn't stay more than five minutes." "Couldn't stand not seeing you. Every day, towards evening, felt I had to see you pictured you so clear. I've been good though, staying away, haven't I!" "And you must go on being good." "Why must I?" "We better not stay here on the porch. The Howlands across the street are such window-peepers, and Mrs. Bogart "
The dull-green cottage of the good Widow Bogart was twenty years old, but it had the antiquity of Cheops, and the smell of mummy-dust. Its neatness rebuked the street.
Bogart observe, "Now we've got prohibition it seems to me that the next problem of the country ain't so much abolishing cigarettes as it is to make folks observe the Sabbath and arrest these law-breakers that play baseball and go to the movies and all on the Lord's Day." Only one thing bruised Carol's vanity. Few people asked her about Washington.
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