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Updated: May 2, 2025
Thropp and his promise to ask his mother to call on her. But he had confessed all that he could endure. He was glad to get away without letting slip the fact that "Thropp" had changed to "Dyckman" via "Gilfoyle." His mother called him back for another embrace and then let him go. She had nowhere to turn for support but to her raging husband, and she found herself crying her eyes out in his arms.
A third dryad whooped, "I bet it's Lizzie Smoots or Mag Wimpfhauser." The others had other suggestions to howl, and Anita cowered in silence, wondering if one of the fiends would not at any moment guess "Kedzie Thropp." The call to arms and legs cut short her torment, and for once the music seemed appropriate. Never had she danced with such lyricism.
Jim was a trifle stunned to learn what lowly jobs some of his brothers-in-law were glad to hold. Mrs. Thropp felt that it was only right to tell Jim as much as she could about his new family. She told him for hours and hours. She described people he had never seen or heard of and would travel many a mile to avoid.
Thropp gave him their names, their ages, habits, diseases, vices, mannerisms, idiosyncrasies. She recounted doings and sayings of infinite unimportance and uninterest. With the fatuous, blindfolded enthusiasm of an after-dinner speaker who rambles on and on and on while the victims yawn, groan, or fold their napkins and silently steal away, Mrs. Thropp poured out her lethal anecdotes.
Kedzie whispered as she ran to her mother and flung herself in her arms for refuge. Mrs. Thropp then lost a great opportunity forever. She tore the girl's hands away and handed her over to her father.
They see frowsy hair and unshaven cheeks and yawns as a homely, wholesome part of life and make a pleasant indolence of them. But Kedzie was in an unreasoning mood. She had hoped for unreasonable delights. Marriage had been a goal beyond the horizon, at the base of the rainbow. She had reached it. The girl Kedzie was no more. She was a wife. Kedzie Thropp and Anita Adair were now Mrs.
"She lost herself in the crowd," said the officer. "She was scared out of her wits," Mrs. Thropp sobbed. The officer shook his head. "She was smilin' when I yelled at her. It looks to me like a get-away." "A runaway?" Mrs. Thropp gasped. "Yes,'m. I'd have went after her, but I was cut off by a taxi."
She was glad to be rid of "Kedzie Thropp." She would never be Kedzie Thropp again. Then the waiter came with her breakfast. It smelled so grand that she forgot to be afraid for a while. The coffee smoked aroma; the ham and eggs were fragrant; and the orange sent up a golden fume of delight. Skip entered into conversation as she entered into the orange. "Where you woikin' now?" he said.
Thropp had begged Kedzie to do the right thing for the right's sake Kedzie would have felt the natural reaction daughters feel toward motherly advice. But the entreaty to do evil that evil might come of it aroused even more resistance, issuing as it did from maternal lips that traditionally give only holy counsel.
He kissed Kedzie, and he had a narrow escape from being kissed by Mrs. Thropp. In the history of nations sometimes a paragraph serves for a certain decade, while a volume is not enough for a certain day. It is so with the history of persons.
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