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To be sure, when she and her little daughter, Viola, rode out in the Proudfits' motor, nobody in the street appeared to look at them. But Friendship knew when they rode, and when they walked, and what they wore, and when they returned. It was a happiness to me to see Mrs.
I hardly ever 'see her walk it was horses and carriages and dance in a ballroom till I wonder she remembered how to walk at all. Everything with her was cut good, an' kid, an' handwork, an' like that the same way the Proudfits is now. But yet she wasn't a bit like Mis' Proudfit an' Clementina.
None the less, since of the Proudfits I could give her some fragment of account, I did so, to forge for Delia More what link I might between her present and her past. And it was knowledge which all Friendship shared. "You knew," I said, "that Miss Linda does not come here now, because she married against the wish of her family." Delia More looked up at me.
No one refused, no one hesitated; and when, at eight o'clock, the Topladys and I reached the rendezvous in the Engine-House entry, every one was there before us save only, of course, the Proudfits. "Where's the Proudfits? Ain't we goin' to wait for the Proudfits?" asked more than one; and some one had seen the Proudfit motor come flashing through the town from the Plank Road, empty.
And that night I was not minded to have them about, for it might befall that it would be necessary to understand other things as well. "Miss Linda would 'a' cared to," said Mis' Amanda, thoughtfully, "but I donno, myself, about Mis' Proudfit an' Miss Clementina for sure." So bold an innovation as the Proudfits' omission, however, moved Timothy Toplady to doubt.
"I must mind Johanna and her plunder," said the Major; "but I'll look after your mother, too." And he did so, though he found time to part fondly with the Proudfits. "He won't do," thought John, as he glanced back from a rise of ground. "Fannie's right.
I says to myself: 'The corp won't care." Someway the Proudfits' car and the stable telephone must themselves have slipped from modernity to old fashion before that incident shall quite come into its own. So it is with certain of our domestic ways.
If only they were conscious like that! To be sure of it would be to touch their hands in the margins of the ballad books. Or we telephone to the Livery Barn and Boarding Stable for the little blacks, celebrated for their self-control in encounters with the Proudfits' motor-car. The stable-boy answers that the little blacks are at "the funeral."
One morning a few weeks after the Proudfits had left, I was sitting beside Calliope's cooking range, watching her at her baking, when the wooden leg of Peleg Bemus thumped across the threshold, and without ceremony he came in from the shed and stood by the fire, warming his axe handle. But Peleg's intrusions were never imputed to him.
Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss," said I, promptly, "and Abigail Arnold, and Doctor June, and Abel Halsey." "An' the Proudfits," Mis' Amanda went on. "Suppose," said I, with high courage, "that we do not ask the Proudfits at all?" Mis' Amanda threw up her giant hands. "Not ask the Proudfits?" she said.
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