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Updated: May 17, 2025
The Street did not go out to see women in Tillie's situation. "But, K.!" she protested. "She needs another woman just now. She's going to have a child, Christine; and she has had no one to talk to but her hus but Mr. Schwitter and myself. She is depressed and not very well." "But what shall I say to her?
"She ain't never got her tongue with her when there's strangers. Ain't, Tillie?" Tillie's burning face was bent over her plate, and she did not attempt to answer. Mr. Fairchilds' eyes rested for an instant on the delicate, sensitive countenance of the girl. But his attention was diverted by an abrupt exclamation from Mrs. Wackernagel.
It's done her wonderful much good wonderful!" "She hadn't no need to stay all day!" growled Mr. Getz. "Mom had all Tillie's work to do, and her own too, and she didn't get it through all." "Well, better LET the work than have Tillie havin' any more of them dangerous swoonds. Them's dangerous, I tell you, Jake! Sometimes folks never comes to, yet!" Mr. Getz looked at Tillie apprehensively.
Tillie's heart had jumped to her throat as she heard him, wondering how he would take it when they announced to him that the applicant was none other than his own daughter whether he would be angry at her long deception, or gratified at the prospect of her earning so much money for, of course, it would never occur to him that she would dare refuse to give him every cent she received.
He deliberately placed his hand on hers as it lay on the table. "You make me want to clasp hands with you. Do you realize what a big truth you have gotten hold of and all that it involves?" "I only know what it means to me." "You are not free to be yourself?" "I have never drawn a natural breath except in secret." Tillie's face was glowing.
Tillie's father was a frugal, honest, hard-working, and very prosperous Pennsylvania Dutch farmer, who thought he religiously performed his parental duty in bringing up his many children in the fear of his heavy hand, in unceasing labor, and in almost total abstinence from all amusement and self-indulgence.
"I don't know what pop'll say to you not comin' out to help," she presently remarked. Tillie's head moved restlessly, but she did not speak. She was past caring what her father might say or do. Mrs. Getz thoughtfully considered a doubtful potato, and, concluding at length to discard it, "I guess," she said, throwing it back into the pan, "I'll let that one; it's some poor.
This industry has prospered in Mr. Tillie's hands. He is also a landed proprietor. His own residence, Duncreggan, is very beautiful, and the grounds about it are laid out in fine taste. There are now many other factories in Derry, but this is the largest.
Tillie's undiscerning family did not for an instant attribute to its true cause her sudden change from radiant happiness to the weakness and lassitude that tell of mental anguish. They were not given to seeing anything that was not entirely on the surface and perfectly obvious.
Tillie's heart beat fast, and she found herself doubting the reality of his precious nearness after the long, dreary days of hungering for him. She dared not speak to him while Miss Spooner held forth, and, indeed, she feared even to look at him, lest curious eyes read in her face what consciously she strove to conceal. She realized his restless impatience under Miss Spooner's eloquence.
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