now.”
There had not been time for the hard-worked woman to stop to brood over this since it happened, for she had been rushed to death getting ready for Justine’s company, but it had stayed in her heart like a poisoned barb and festered. Now, as she leaned her hot forehead against the cool windowpane, she seemed to be pressing against the poisoned throb of it, and the string drove into her soul like a keen, hot instrument of torture.
Oh, of course Lynette was well enough, pretty and well connected, and sweet and pleasant to her. She had no complaint to make about the way she had always treated her, but one could see it was only for Dana’s sake. Of course she had no love for her. She was not her kind. And never would she consent to go and live in a home with Lynette, not with Lynette as housekeeper. That was not to be tolerated. If the children would consent to let her be housekeeper and they board with her something might work out, she doubted it. But they never would of course. Every girl wanted her own domain, and to be the boss of it. Well, she would never go to live with them, even if Dana got around to want it, which her heart told her he never would. Why, Lynette had been taught to wash dishes with two pans, one for washing and one for rinsing! Such folly! A perfect waste of time and material to say nothing of hot water. A great deal better to pile them in the sink after the washing and pour a little hot water over them. Lynette said her grandmother had taught her that the dishes did not get thoroughly rinsed unless they were entirely immersed in water. H’mph! The Whipple dishes were just as clean as anybody’s dishes, and as smooth and shiny. And she never used a rinsing pan. That was the difference between the Whipples and Brookes anyway; the Brookes thought they were too good for other folks. They thought she didn’t wash dishes clean. They thought she was dirty.
Her eyes snapped and she lifted her tired head fiercely from the windowpane, her strength returning with her anger, the tears which but the moment before had been blinding her scorching dry with the heat of her indignation. No, she would never go to live with Dana as a dependent. But oh, if she could just get away from Justine! Justine was the thorn in her flesh which pricked and scratched continually. Oh, life, life, life! What a farce it was! Trouble everywhere one looked. No comfort even in one’s own children. The minute you got them raised they turned away from you.
And now here was this other girl coming upon the scene! No telling what complications this might bring about. There might be worse things in life than even to have Lynette as a daughter-in-law, dishpans and all! Strange Grandma didn’t think of that. But then she did not know the girl was grown up. That was all a piece of Justine’s slyness. It would serve Grandma right if the girl made trouble.
Grimly, Amelia went back to her cooking, her lips set, her heart heavy. The dinner had to be got whatever came, and one couldn’t live always, that was some comfort. Though heaven would have to be pretty nice to make up for all one went through here.
Amelia had an inherited belief in a life hereafter, not an active one, which she kept put away in her thoughts somewhere against the day of her departure from this life. It could not be said to be a bright and shining hope. It was merely a last vague resort. It seemed necessary for the mother of a prospective minister of the Gospel to have this much. It wouldn’t be decent not to. But it could not be said to be a comfort and stay to her soul.
Then suddenly the peas began to boil dry, it was time for the biscuits to go into the oven, the potatoes must be mashed, and the gravy made. What difference did it make whether life was worth living or not? The dinner must be brought to its usual perfect climax. Justine was coming down the front stairs. In a moment more she would dash into the kitchen with her obnoxious offers of help again, and she would see that Amelia had been crying.
Amelia seized the potato pot and poured the potatoes hastily through the colander. The rising steam would hide her eyes. Justine would think it was the steam that made her eyes red. Justine wasn’t as keen as Grandma. Think of Grandma noticing that little bit of powder!
Amelia dashed her hand hastily over her eyes again to make sure there were no telltale drops on her lashes. Was that Dana’s car turning in at the drive?
Now, what would that other girl be like? Everything depended upon that.
CHAPTER V
The train was within a mile of the station, and Ella Smith and her daughter were preparing to leave it.
“We’re going through into the parlor car and get out from there,” announced the daughter as if she were conductor of the expedition.
“No,” said the mother, “that’s silly. I don’t like to walk in a moving train.”
“Well, you’re going to walk in this one, Ella,” said the daughter impudently. “It’s bad enough to have to ride in a common car without having people see you did it. Come on Ella, pick up your things. It’s time we were getting started.”
“Now, look here, Jessie, that’s another thing I’ve been going to speak to you about. You’ve simply got to stop calling me Ella. It’s disrespectful, and I won’t have it. It was all right at home just for fun, where everybody knew us, but now we’re going among strangers, and Miss Whipple would be horrified. I want you to promise me, Jessie”
“Promise nothing!” said the daughter. “It’s none of her business what I call my mother. If she’s such an antiquated Jane that she doesn’t know everybody is doing it now it’s time she learned. It’s you that have got to cut calling me Jessie. I won’t have it, do you hear? You promised you wouldn’t do it another time. And you’ve called me Jessie half a dozen times in the last five minutes. I’m Jessie Belle from now on, and you’re Ella. Get me? It won’t take me two minutes to jump back on this train and go to New York or some other place I like if you go to getting funny. I may stay in this dump if everything goes right for a while but I certainly won’t if it don’t. Get that? I won’t stick around a week even if you call me Jessie once. I’m not going to arrive there and be tagged with that old-fashioned name. It’s Jessie Belle or nothing.”
“Well Jessie I mean, Jessie Belleit’s awfully hard to remember, Jessie, when I’ve called you that all your life, but Jessie Belle, I’ll call you Jessie Belle if you will stop calling me Ella. It really isn’t seemly, Jessie I mean Jessie Belle”
“Aw, cut that! It’s Ella or nothing. I won’t stick around at all and go around saying ‘Momma’ the way you want me to. It simply isn’t being done. If you can’t be a good sport like an up-to-date mother I’ll make my own life. I’ve told you that before. And you’ve got to improve on that Jessie business or you won’t find me when the train moves on at all. You get in a Jessie twice for every time you say it right. You’ve got to think of me as Jessie Belle. Say it over and over to yourself while we’re getting off and then you’ll be able to manage it naturally. I thought I had you trained. Come, Ella, the train’s slowing down. You take that old bag, and I’ll take the new one. Get a hustle on. Follow me, and don’t you dare let that young man know we rode in the common car.”
“Oh, but, Jessie Belle,” said Ella Smith dubiously, rising and trying to pull down the heavy bag from the rack overhead.
“That’s the stuff, Ella, keep her up!” said Jessie Belle swinging jauntily up the aisle with the new bag and boldly slamming the door open. “Get through this door and into the parlor car quick before anybody sees us. We’re going clear through and get off the other end. See? And we’re going to give the porter our bags to carry. I’ve got a quarter all ready to give him. Don’t you make any fuss now.”
“But Jessie Jessie Belle why waste a whole quarter for that? It’s only a minute or two more, and we can just as well carry them ourselves. The young man will likely take them for us. Here, give me yours if it’s heavy. I can manage them both.”
“For mercy’s sake, Ella, don’t you see it means everything to make a good impression at the start? Do you want him to see we had to carry our own baggage? Do you want him to know you’re so hard up you