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Updated: June 28, 2025
She came home and took the place in the schools to earn money with which to take her back East, dreaming of a position as instructor in an eastern college. She was that rare thing, a woman scholar, loving scholarship for its own sake. Mary Underwood's position in the town and in the schools was insecure.
Dicky's eager eyes looked up from his white face into mine. His voice, weak, but thrilling with the old love note, repeated my name over and over, as if he could not say it enough. I sank on my knees beside the bed in which Dicky lay. I realized in a hazy sort of fashion that the room must be Harry Underwood's own bed chamber, but I spent no time in conjecture.
Knowing them as well as he did, he must have known Harry Underwood's propensities. He must also have known the gossip that connected his own name with Lillian's. He should have guarded me from any contact with them. I felt my anger fuse to a white heat against both my husband and Lillian. An ugly suspicion crossed my mind.
But I felt that I cared as little for her opinion of me as she evidently did of mine for her. Twenty dollars a week was worth a little sacrifice. Lillian Underwood's raucous voice came to my ears as I rang the bell of my little apartment. It stopped suddenly at the sound of the bell. Dicky opened the door and Mrs. Underwood greeted me boisterously.
As for these women away with them I'll face them down I did it once before and I'll do it again. Go to your city and make your fight. Here in Caxton it is a woman's fight." "It is horrible. You don't understand," Sam protested. A grey, tired look came into Mary Underwood's face. "I understand," she said. "I have been on that battlefield. It is to be won only by silence and tireless waiting.
Pettit's face did not change, but into his gray eyes came a little steely glint. He said nothing, only smiled at me. But there was something about both smile and eyes that made me more uncomfortable than Harry Underwood's bizarre threat. I was so unskilled in this game of banter and flirtation that I was at a loss what to say. Recklessly I grasped at the first thing which came into my mind.
Underwood's supporters attacked Mr. Hobson because he defended the Negro soldiers when he was Representative, and Mr. Hobson's supporters attacked Mr. Underwood because they said that he had a Negro secretary in Washington. Any politician who dares defend a Negro, however just the cause may be, is doomed to political death. This is another fact which we all know.
But the ringing and pounding in his head increased, his brain seemed reeling, and he was so nearly blinded by pain that, notwithstanding his efforts, he was forced to admit to himself, as a little later he sank upon a couch in the room assigned to him, that his impressions of the ladies to whom he had just been presented were exceedingly vague. Mr. Underwood's sister, Mrs.
I must have dozed in my chair, for I did not hear Katie come in or go to the kitchen. The first thing that aroused me was a voice that I knew, the high-pitched tones of Lillian Gale Underwood. "I tell you, Dicky-bird, it won't do. She's got to know the truth." As Mrs. Underwood's shrill voice struck my ears, I sprang to my feet in dismay.
Underwood's instinct for piecing and darning had revived as soon as she was taken out of bed, her work now always needed a certain revision to secure the boys from the catastrophe of which Wilmet often dreamt appearing in public in ragged shirt-sleeves!
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