Part 2 (1/2)
”She wouldn't ever do such a thing,” moaned f.a.n.n.y.
”Where's that pattern?”
”What pattern?” f.a.n.n.y said, faintly.
”That little dress pattern. Her little dress pattern, the one you cut over my dress for her by.”
”In the bureau drawer in my room. Oh, she wouldn't.”
Eva went into the bedroom, returned with the pattern, got the scissors from f.a.n.n.y's work-basket, and threw her best silk dress in a rustling heap upon the table.
f.a.n.n.y stopped moaning and looked at her with wretched wonder. ”What be you goin' to do?”
”Do?” cried Eva, fiercely--”do? I'm goin' to cut this dress over for her.”
”You ain't.”
”Yes, I be. If I drove her away from home, scoldin' because you cut over that other old thing of mine for her, I'm goin' to make up for it now. I'm goin' to give her my best blue silk, that I paid a dollar and a half a yard for, and 'ain't worn three times. Yes, I be. She's goin' to have a dress cut out of it, an' she's comin' back to wear it, too. You'll see she is comin' home to wear it.”
Eva cut wildly into the silk with mad slashes of her gleaming shears, while two neighboring women, who had just come into the room, stared aghast, and even f.a.n.n.y was partly diverted from her sorrow.
”She's crazy,” whispered one of the women, backing away as she spoke.
”Oh, Eva, don't; don't do so,” pleaded f.a.n.n.y, tremulously.
”I be,” said Eva, and she cut recklessly up the front breadth.
”You ain't cutting it right,” said the other neighbor, who was skilful in such matters, and never fully moved from her own household grooves by any excitement. ”If you are a-goin' to cut it at all, you had better cut it right.”
”I don't care how I cut it,” returned Eva, thrusting the woman away.
”Oh, I don't care how I cut it; I want to waste it. I will waste it.”
The other neighbor backed entirely out of the room, then turned and fled across the yard, her calico wrapper blowing wildly and las.h.i.+ng about her slender legs, to her own house, the doors of which she locked. Presently the other woman followed her, stepping with the ponderous leisure which results from vastness of body and philosophy of mind. The autumn wind, swirling in impetuous gusts, had little effect upon her broadside of woollen shawl. She had not come out on that raw evening with nothing upon her head. She shook the kitchen door of her friend, and smiled with calm rea.s.surance when it was cautiously set ajar to disclose a wide-eyed and open-mouthed face of terror. ”Who is it?”
”It's me. What have you got your door locked for?”
”I think that Eva Loud is raving crazy. I'm afraid of her.”
”Lord! you 'ain't no reason to be 'fraid of her. She ain't crazy.
She's only lettin' the birds that fly over your an' my heads settle down to roost. You and me, both of us, if we was situated jest as she is, might think of doin' jest what she's a-doin', but we won't neither of us do it. We'd let our best dresses hang in the closet, safe and sound, while we cut them up in our souls; but Eva, she's different.”
”Well, I don't care. I believe she's crazy, and I'm going to keep my doors locked. How do you know she hasn't killed Ellen and put her in the well?”
”Stuff! Now you're lettin' your birds roost, Hattie Monroe.”
”I read something that wasn't any worse than that in the paper the other day. I should think they would look in the well. Have Mrs.
Jones and Miss Cross gone home?”
”No; they are over there. There's poor Andrew coming now; I wonder if he has heard anything?”