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Updated: May 17, 2025
But April! You might as well say in another life. How could she ever get through the days till then?... "I'm glad you're interested," she said aloud, sharply, thinking that this was exactly what came of giving a lift to the Cooneys. "I think it's simply disgusting.... Get us through this, William." "It's familiar, at any rate. Let's see. Dunbar must be the next street over but one, isn't it?"
And then Henrietta, with that audacious forwardness which the Cooneys mistook for humor, smiled treacherously at her cousin over the caller's shoulder, and said: "And entertain each other a moment, won't you? I have got to speak to mother...." On that Hen left them. Through some bias in its ancient hinges, the parlor door swung to behind her. It shut with a loud click.
Cally was glad to be with her cousins to-day. The simple and friendly atmosphere here was mightily comfortable. Never had they seemed so poor to her, never so fine and merry in their poverty. Her heart went out to them. They were all well now, the Cooneys, and the table was their clearing-house. There was much talk, of the new Works and other matters; great argument.
The War had flattened it out, cut it half through at the roots, and it had never recovered, as economists count recovery, and wouldn't, for a generation or two at the least. Accursed contentment flowed in the young Cooneys' blood. They had abilities enough, but the sane acquisitive gift was not in them. They were poor, but unashamed. They were breezy, keen, adventurous, without fatigue.
All day the claims of the familiar encroached upon the real world within, and thoughts, the radiant aliens, had to range themselves in as they could. She was breakfasting with her father. They were to forage for luncheon to-day, these two, and spoke of it; he naming the club, she electing her cousins the Cooneys.
They claimed the gasoline-cleaning establishment as their private garage, challenging any car under six thousand dollars to beat the expensive smell. A large and very popular group of family jokes centred about the plant of the legman. Carlisle Heth "came to supper" with the Cooneys, as agreed, on the Thursday following the magic afternoon at Willie's apartment.
They sat down across the great table from each other, in good business style, as she considered; and then she began to talk eagerly, recounting to him without any embarrassment, though of course with some judicious expurgation, what had been going on in her mind, and out of it, during the last five days; beginning with the afternoon she had seen him at the Cooneys', and culminating with the long talk she had had with her father at, and after, luncheon to-day.
"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.
The children came two years apart, as regular as some kind of biannual publication; Looloo, seventeen, being the youngest, and also the best-looking and the most popular in the family. But then all the Cooneys were good-looking, including the Major, and all were popular in the family.
It was then observed that Hen, having silenced her great clapper, was unobtrusively gone from the midst. The circumstance proved of interest to the younger Cooneys. "She's nursing a little bunch of violets she got three days ago," Tee Wee explained to Carlisle. "Says she's going to wear 'em to the Masons' to-morrow, though anybody can see they can't possibly live through the night."
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