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The wing of this vast body brushed Cally's cheek now, in mamma's cooing notes. She felt it, but only smiled. A new strength possessed her; she was her own girl now as never before. "I'll give the suggestion due thought, mamma dear ... I've an engagement now." Annie knocked, announcing Mr. Avery.
But before she fell asleep that night, Cally's thoughts had turned more than once to, V. Vivian, of the old hotel which was now a Settlement. Why had he asked her to go to the Works some day, and why had he done it with that strange look? Concerning Women who won't remember their Place, and a Speech to Two Hundred of them, by Mr.
Cally's dreaded accusing interview in the study gave place, beyond all imagining, to an unpremeditated outpouring by telephone, in which her chief fear was only of making a perfect little silly of herself. And lastly, Mr.
"Ghastly," said Hen. "I'll be awfully glad to get away next month," continued Cally.... Interested by the hiatus in Cally's list of missing swains, Hen desired that this conversation should go on. Like most people, the Cooneys had of course heard of, and gossiped about, the open breach between their cousin and Mr. Canning a month ago, promptly followed by the great young man's departure from town.
And when Cally's thoughts turned toward this present, struggling to show beyond doubt that that girl and this were not one, they ran perpetually into that new cloud of her own weakness which had unrolled above her to-day, and now spread and blackened over the skies. And yet she felt that it was not cowardice that tied her hands against the fainting girls in the bunching-room.
A quiver went over the little mask; but the girl spoke in the same stony way: "Oh, ma'am ... it's so kind.... I'll go now." But the hollowness of Cally's speech had mocked the sudden sympathy upwelling within her. Her arm was upon the work-girl's frail shoulder; her indistinct voice suddenly tremulous.
And there was a worse thing here than her mean looking for hypocrisy, and the discovery, instead, of a mad generosity, a princely folly. Bad enough all that seemed; very bad indeed: but Cally's painful moment seemed to cut deeper yet. After all the struggling, had it come to this? Was the author of the Beach opinion of her a man whom she must greatly admire?...
Henrietta appeared characteristically cheerful, though reporting half the family sick, and Cousin Martha Heth quite low in mind with her flatfoot. And Cally's manner to her poor relation was quite friendly to-night, without any special effort.
It was September, and people were beginning to troop back in numbers from the holiday places of their desire. Cally's first days at home were full of meetings, with those now seen for the first time under strangely altered conditions. She was not wanting in spirit, but she lacked her mother's splendid pachydermousness.
He lifted his hat high, and, so holding it at height, posed as if for a picture, gave it something like a wave, as in double measure of greeting and good-will. A proper salutation from friend to friend; and the sunlight gleamed on his crisp fair hair.... Cally's return greeting was somewhat less finished.
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