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Updated: May 10, 2025
But, at about eleven o'clock, the men who had been streaming in and out of the house began to disperse, and she and Mrs. Cudahy went into the kitchen, and made a pot of coffee. Susan, sitting at the foot of the table, poured it, and seasoned it carefully. "You are going to be well cared for, Mr. Oliver," said Ernest Rassette, in his careful English. "No such luck!"
"He's going to be at that conference, at half-past five," Susan assured him. He gave her an amused look. "Aren't you the little Foxy-Quiller!" he said. "Gosh, I do love to have you out here, Sue!" he added, grinning like a happy small boy. "This is Rassette's, where I'm staying," he said, stopping before the very prettiest and gayest of little gardens. "Come in and meet Mrs. Rassette."
Susan went in to meet the blonde, pretty, neatly aproned little lady of the house. "The boys already are upstairs, Mr. Oliver," said Mrs. Rassette, and as Billy went up the little stairway with flying leaps, she led Susan into her clean little parlor.
She thrilled with pride when he came to bashfully consult her about the long letters he wrote from time to time to Clem Cudahy or Joseph Rassette, listened eagerly to his talks with the post-office clerk, the store-keeper, the dairymen and ranchers up on the mountain. And always she found him good. "Too good for me," said Susan sadly to herself.
Susan secretly thought of Anna's attachment as quite hopeless. Philip and Betts and Susan were expected back at their respective places too, and Billy was deeply interested in the outcome of the casual, friendly letters he had written during the month in camp to Joseph Rassette.
"Only," she added in a lowered tone, with a glance toward Mrs. Cudahy, who was out in the yard talking to Lizzie, "only I prefer the Rassette establishment to any I've seen!" "The Rassettes," he told her, significantly, "are trained for their work; she just as much as he is! Do you wonder I think it's worth while to educate people like that?" "But Billy everyone seems so comfortable.
The wooden floor here, and in the hall, was unpainted, but immaculately clean and the effect of the whole was clean and gay and attractive. "You speak very wonderful English for a foreigner, Mrs. Rassette." "I?" The little matron showed her white teeth. "But I was born in New Jersey," she explained, "only when I am seven my Mama sends me home to my Grandma, so that I shall know our country.
Oliver and Clem and Rassette and Weidermeyer are going to meet t'gether in Mr. Oliver's room at Rassette's house. Ye c'n see them there." "Well, maybe I will," said George, softening, as he left them. "What's the conference about?" asked Susan pleasantly. "What's the don't tell me ye don't know THAT!" Mrs. Cudahy said, eying her shrewdly. "I knew there was a strike " Susan began ashamedly.
"I am baby-mad!" said Susan, sitting down with the baby in her lap. "A strike is pretty hard, when you have these to think of, isn't it?" she asked sympathetically. "Yes, we don't wish that we should move," Mrs. Rassette agreed placidly, "We have been here now four years, and next year it is our hope that we go to our ranch." "Oh, have you a ranch?" asked Susan.
"Gosh, about one cheer, and I would have broken down like a kid!" he said to Susan, on the car. Rassette and Clem had escorted them thither; Mrs. Cudahy and Lizzie walking soberly behind them, with Susan. Both women kissed Susan good-bye, and Susan smiled through her tears as she saw the last of them. "I'll take good care of him," she promised the old woman. "He's been overdoing it too long!"
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