Part 39 (1/2)

Again Miss Lee tatted industriously. Then she looked up with what she tried to make a most friendly smile.

”Now you know, Miss Doane, I _never_ gossip, but I am a friend of yours and I think you ought to be told. The neighbors think it queer that you have this man live here, who is no relative of yours.”

”How's it queer?”

”Well, it's unconventional, to say the least.”

”What do you mean by unconventional?”

”I don't know how I can say it so that you will understand. Not quite proper, you know.”

Drusilla sat back in her chair. A bright spot appeared on her faded cheek and there was an ominous light in her eyes.

”So my neighbors think I'm improper! Well, that's news and I'm glad to hear it. I've always wanted to do something unconventional, as you call it, but I ain't never had no chance. I always had to do what was expected of me. I had to live a life just about as broad as a needle, just because I had to make my livin' and couldn't afford to do nothin' that'd be different from what other folks done. But now I got a chance, and I'm glad I ain't too old yet to shock my neighbors. I'd keep John now if I had to tie him in his chair.”

Miss Lee saw the light in the eyes, and hastened to say:

”Now, please, dear Miss Doane, don't think that I am blaming you. I understand perfectly--_perfectly_. I just feel that you ought to know what is being said.”

”You're real kind, Miss Lee. People won't miss what's bein' said about 'em if you don't git paralyzed in your tongue.”

Miss Lee flushed and gathered her threads together.

”Well, my intentions are always of the best, I a.s.sure you. I must be going. I see my maid talking to one of your gardeners. It must be stopped.”

”Yes, I'd stop it if I was you. She might be enjoyin' herself.

Good-by. And when you stop at your next place, tell 'em that I'm waitin' for that Committee, and that I'm enjoyin' John Brierly's visit, and that he's goin' to live here, and so's my babies, and that they don't need to know what's goin' on in my grounds if they don't stretch their necks to see over the walls when they ride by. Good-by.”

Drusilla watched the woman as she went down the road and as she disappeared she heaved a sigh.

”Well, the Lord sendeth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed--I guess I'll go see John.”

She went up to the small library where she knew she would find him poring over a book.

John looked up as she entered the room, and Drusilla sat down in a chair and looked into the fire, as if seeing pictures there. John went on with his reading, but finally, seeing Drusilla looking at him intently, he spoke.

”What is it, Drusilla?”

Drusilla said softly: ”John, do you remember when we used to walk down Willow Lane in the moonlight, and one night some of the neighbors saw your arm around me and they went to mother and said we was carryin' on and it ought to be put a stop to? Well, the neighbors say we are carryin' on again.”

John closed the book in his hand.

”What do you mean, Drusilla?”

”The neighbors say we are carryin' on. They think that because you ain't a relation that's it's unconventional, them's her words, unconventional that you stay here.”

A pained look came into kindly John's eyes.

”Why, Drusilla, I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps I'd better go.”

Drusilla reached over and patted his hand.