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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Well, now, I am going to trust you more fully still. You noticed, or perhaps you did not, that Sir John Crawford, Fanny's father, called to see me yesterday?" "Fanny herself told me," replied Miss Symes. "I found the poor, dear child in floods of tears. Sir John Crawford is going to India immediately, and Fanny says she is not likely to see him again for a year."
She indulged, too, in speculation as to the outcome of the marriage, but could not venture a prophecy since it was one of those affairs to which no ending would be improbable. But while Dr. Harpe speculated, observation and the suggestions of Andy P. Symes were working wonders in the appearance of the gawky, long-limbed woman.
She was thoroughly happy, and enjoyed her life to the utmost. Among the teachers in the school was a certain Miss Symes, an Englishwoman of very high attainments, with lofty ideas, and the greatest desire to do the utmost for her pupils. Miss Symes was not more than six-and-twenty.
The nervous strain of the day previous and the interview of the morning left Symes with a feeling of fatigue when evening came. As he stretched himself upon a couch watching Augusta moving to and fro freshly dressed for the dinner which had now wholly replaced the plebeian supper in the Symes household, he was again impressed by the improvement in her appearance.
Symes shoved up the shade to see the lovely Pearline Starr, with her head tied in a nubia, fighting her way through his front gate. She was bearing ahead of her some garment on the end of a stick. Mr. Symes dressed hastily that he might respond to her knock. When Mr. Symes opened the door Miss Starr was clinging, breathless, to a pillar of the veranda in order to keep her footing.
She no longer made a pretence of reading but sat with her eyes upon the street. Symes remembered that it had been a long time since she had watched for him like that. Finally she threw down her book and stood up that she might have a better view of the door of the Terriberry House. When she started down the sidewalk toward the gate Symes called her. "Augusta!" "Yes?" impatiently. "Come here."
Mrs. Jackson glanced furtively over her shoulder and observed that Mrs. Symes was still standing on the veranda. "If I come upon her face to face, but I don't go out of my way a-tall," she added in unconscious imitation of Mrs. Symes's newly-acquired languor of speech. "One rully can't afford to after her bein' so indiscreet and all." "Rotten, I says" declared Mrs. Tutts tersely.
When she regained Miss Symes's room she found that lady already there. She was making her toilet. "Why, Fanny," she said, "what have you been doing? You haven't, surely, been to your own room! Did Sister Helen let you in?" "She didn't want to; but I required some some handkerchiefs and things of that sort," said Fanny. "Well, you haven't brought any handkerchiefs," said Miss Symes.
She pointed to a gesticulating mob which was turning the corner where the road led from the Symes Irrigation Project into town. "The dagos!" Dr. Harpe's voice was a whisper of fear. "They're on the prod," Nell Beecroft said briefly, and strode to the cellar-door. "Cache yourself!" She would have thrust Dr. Harpe down the stairway. "No no not there! I can't! I'd scream!"
"Ner me," declared Mrs. Jackson, "she's a perfeckly good girl so far as I know." "Where do you suppose Mis' Symes got them cards printed?" inquired Mrs. Tutts. "I gotta git Tutts to git to work and git me some." "Over to the Courier office I should think," Mrs. Jackson added. "It's lucky I got some in the house since they've started in usin' em." There was a moment's silence in which Mrs.
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