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Updated: June 12, 2025
And they ain't any of 'em easy people either. Mattie was, before the accident; I never knew a sweeter nature. But she's suffered too much that's what I always say when folks tell me how she's soured. And Zeena, she was always cranky. Not but what she bears with Mattie wonderful I've seen that myself.
In the kitchen Mattie was sitting by the stove, the cat curled up on her knees. She sprang to her feet as Ethan entered and carried the covered dish of meat-pie to the table. "I hope Zeena isn't sick?" she asked. "No." She shone at him across the table. "Well, sit right down then. You must be starving." She uncovered the pie and pushed it over to him.
"Oh, she'd never leave us as long as you needed her," he returned, scraping hard at his chin. "I wouldn't ever have it said that I stood in the way of a poor girl like Mattie marrying a smart fellow like Denis Eady," Zeena answered in a tone of plaintive self-effacement. Ethan, glaring at his face in the glass, threw his head back to draw the razor from ear to chin.
"I'd like to know what," he growled. "Nobody can tell with Zeena." It was the first time they had ever spoken so openly of her attitude toward Mattie, and the repetition of the name seemed to carry it to the farther corners of the room and send it back to them in long repercussions of sound. Mattie waited, as if to give the echo time to drop, and then went on: "She hasn't said anything to you?"
"You never can tell, this time of year, it drifts so bad on the Flats." The name had benumbed him again, and once more he felt as if Zeena were in the room between them. "Oh, Puss, you're too greedy!" Mattie cried.
She walked out of the kitchen ahead of them and pausing in the hall raised the lamp at arm's-length, as if to light them up the stairs. Ethan paused also, affecting to fumble for the peg on which he hung his coat and cap. The doors of the two bedrooms faced each other across the narrow upper landing, and to-night it was peculiarly repugnant to him that Mattie should see him follow Zeena.
Supper's been ready half an hour." Inside the room there was a moment's silence; then Zeena called out from her seat: "I'm not coming down to supper." "Oh, I'm sorry! Aren't you well? Sha'n't I bring you up a bite of something?" Ethan roused himself with an effort and opened the door. "Go along down, Matt. Zeena's just a little tired. I'm coming."
Ethan, a moment earlier, had felt himself on the brink of eloquence; but the mention of Zeena had paralysed him. Mattie seemed to feel the contagion of his embarrassment, and sat with downcast lids, sipping her tea, while he feigned an insatiable appetite for dough-nuts and sweet pickles.
"I hope Zeena ain't broken anything she sets store by," she called after him as he turned the greys toward home. The fitful bursts of sleet had changed into a steady rain and the horses had heavy work even without a load behind them.
Zeena, while he spoke, seemed to be following out some elaborate mental calculation. She emerged from it to say: "There'll be Mattie's board less, any how " Ethan, supposing the discussion to be over, had turned to go down to supper. He stopped short, not grasping what he heard. "Mattie's board less ?" he began. Zeena laughed.
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