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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Mamma," said Cally, starting up, very white, "if you do any such thing as that I'll go away somewhere. I will go and earn my own living.... I'll go and live with the Cooneys!" The two women gazed at each other. Over the mother's face there spread a slow flush; the round, purple birthmark darkened. Cally spoke again, with deadly earnestness.
Canning had skipped back just to stay over Sunday and not go near her, and why Cally was so mysterious and secretive all of a sudden. She always told Cally every single thing about her affairs, reporting in detail what was "the most" each man said to her, and always bringing her their letters to read, even Mr. Dudley's, who wrote such perfectly beautiful ones.
And leaning forward on that, she said to his hired driver: "Take us to Seventeenth and Canal Streets." The shadow of disapprobation did not lift from Hugo's face. "I had no idea," he said, boredly and somewhat stiffly, "that you took your new-thought so seriously." Cally laughed brightly. "But then you never think women are serious, Hugo."
But then, each of their meetings seemed marked by some such realignment, and always to his advantage. Again and again she had put this man down, at first with all her strength; and each time when she turned and looked at him again, behold he had shot up higher than ever. So Cally had just been thinking.
And Cally, ardently wishing to be free of this subject, said gaily that Mr. Canning had thrown her over the second time, too! So she had told him that she had some spirit, that some day he would do that once too often.... "Oh, you're joking," said Mats, quite pettishly. "Dear, I don't care for jokes."
"I mean iron braces running from the ground on each side of the building," said Cally "and holding up girders, or whatever you call them, under the bunching-room floor?" He gazed a moment, and then exclaimed: "Oh good! Oh, that's good!... That would do it do it perfectly!..."
In her daughter's blue eyes there lingered that gleaming exultation, not completely softened as yet by the sweeter and now due love-light. "He wants me to marry him next month." "Oh, Cally!..." Fairly tumbling forward from the door, Mrs. Heth gathered her daughter in a convulsive bear-hug, murmuring ecstatic nothings. Little she thought of Settlements or picayunish donations now.
In those days the Works would have been a model plant nine-hour day, high wages, no women working at night, no children...." If Cally was not wholly heartened by words like these, she knew where the lack was. And perhaps Hen herself was conscious of something missing.
"We'll just stop a minute and speak to V.V.," she added, as if that went without saying. But this time Cally said no, somewhat hastily. And then she explained that she must go home to dress, as mamma was having some people to dinner to-night. Hen looked disappointed. "Well, there's no chance of getting near him now, anyway.
Even Carlisle's most intimate friends, try as they doubtless did, seemed unable to help showing that they considered her lot in the world sadly changed. So, indeed, it was. Mattie and Evey could not, for instance, begin naturally by asking, "Cally, did you have a lovely summer?" when of course they knew very well that she had had a perfectly frightful summer.
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