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Updated: June 5, 2025
She buried her face in her hands. "It's it's that I I like him! I like him!" A moment of perplexity. Then, gradually, it dawned upon the elder girl whom the other meant. In very surprise her arms loosened their hold. "You do hate me," Marylyn said plaintively. "No, honey, no why should I hate you?" Her words were earnest. But her voice something had changed it.
The younger girl was listless, pale and moody. Now and then, Dallas believed she saw a look of actual suffering in her eyes. Once, awakening in the night, she heard her sob. Marylyn was unhappy, and the thought made the elder girl desperate. This led her to a plan: Lounsbury must be asked to forgive their father and come again must be told of Marylyn's confession!
He broke off as he halted the car in front of a rambling, dilapidated house. Marylyn Wade and Joe Ewing appeared in the doorway. "'Lo Sally Carrol." "Hi!" "How you-all?" "Sally Carrol," demanded Marylyn as they started of again, "you engaged?" "Lawdy, where'd all this start? Can't I look at a man 'thout everybody in town engagin' me to him?"
She leaned toward Lounsbury from the window. "What does he mean by 'fixing you'?" she asked hoarsely. The storekeeper was still watching riverward, and he answered without turning his head. "He means it's a case of shoot on sight," he said. "Then you mustn't go near him you must go back to Clark's. Promise me you will! I can take care of Marylyn till dad comes. If you got hurt "
"Settle due east of you, sir," was the answer. "My name's Braden Al Braden. I'm from Sioux Falls." "Won't y' come in?" "Tickled t' death!" They entered the shack, Lancaster leading. Dallas and Marylyn glanced up in surprise from the fireplace, and arose hastily. "M' gals," said the section-boss, motioning their visitor to a bench.
He delved into the side pockets of his coat and pulled out two books. "O-o-oh!" breathed Marylyn. "All I had, but maybe you'll like 'em. They're love stories." The shadow beyond the firelight claimed her again. From the lean-to came the sound of Lancaster's voice. It was shrill with anger. A great sadness came over the storekeeper. "I wish I could come down often and look after things," he said.
Probably not. A wave of loneliness and of undeserved injury swept her, welling the tears to her eyes. She was halted close to the corn-land when cheery singing reached her. Marylyn had left the shack and was going riverward, dawdling with studied slowness. "We saw the Indians coming, We heard them give a yell, My feelings at that moment No mortal tongue could tell.
Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, all the girls he had seen loitering down Jackson Street by noon, now, curled and brilliantined and delicately tinted for the overhead lights, were miraculously strange Dresden figures of pink and blue and red and gold, fresh from the shop and not yet fully dried.
On the robe once more, she took out and held up to the light of the fire two books and a strip of beaded cloth. The elder left the window and stood beside her. "These are what he gave me," went on Marylyn, putting forward the books. "And this" she showed the beadwork "he asked me to make for him. But to-day," mournfully, "he didn't even speak of it."
If it is, then they'd like us, wouldn't they? and we could have friends. I'm not thinking about myself just about Marylyn." "You gals got each other. Meetin' th' women at Brannon means meetin' th' men. An' Ah won't hev it!" His voice rose almost to a shout. "I'll never speak to you about it again," she said. And her quiet acceptance mollified him.
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