Part 10 (1/2)

”Why should you say anything so foolish? What did I come out here for?”

The old woman looked around at her with a brief, strange look.

”You couldn't get help,” went on Geraldine, ”and so as I needed a home I came.”

”Is that what they told you?”

”Yes. That is what my stepmother told me, and I see it is true. You seem to have no one here but men.”

”Yes,” replied Mrs. Carder. ”It--it hasn't been a healthy place for girls.” She cast a glance toward the door as she spoke in a lowered voice.

”Dreadfully lonely, you mean?” inquired Geraldine, unpleasantly affected by the other's timidity. ”The woman has no spirit,” she added mentally with some impatience.

Mrs. Carder looked full in her eyes for a silent s.p.a.ce; then: ”Rufus can do anything he wants to--anything,” she whispered.

Geraldine, in the act of wiping a coa.r.s.e, thick dinner-plate, met the other's gaze with a little frown.

”Don't give in to him, my dear,” went on the sharp whisper. ”You are too beautiful, too young. He's crazy about you, so you be firm. Don't give in to him. Insist on his marrying you!”

The thick dinner-plate fell to the floor with a crash.

”Marrying him!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Geraldine.

”s.h.!.+ s.h.!.+ Oh, Miss Melody, hus.h.!.+”

Geraldine began to s.h.i.+ver from head to foot. The lover-like words and actions of her host seemed rus.h.i.+ng back to memory with all the other repulsive experiences of past weeks.

The kitchen door opened and the master appeared.

”Who's smas.h.i.+ng the crockery?” he inquired.

”It's your awkward help,” rejoined Geraldine, her teeth chattering as she stooped to pick up the plate.

”I knew you weren't fit for this kind of thing,” he said tenderly, approaching, to the girl's horror. ”Where's that confounded Pete?”

”I sent him away,” said Geraldine, indignant with herself for trembling.

”I wanted to do this; it is what I came for. The plate didn't break.”

The man regarded her flushed face with a gaze that scorched her.

”Break everything in the old shack if you want to--that is, all but one thing!”

He stood for half a minute more while his mother scalded a new pan full of dishes.

”What is that poem,” he went on--”What's that about, 'Thou shalt not wash dishes nor yet feed the swine'? Well, well, we'll see later.”

Geraldine's heart was pounding too hard to allow her to speak. She seized another plate in her towel, his mother, her wrinkled lips pursed, kept her eyes on her dishpan, so with a pleased smile at his own apt quotation the master reluctantly removed his presence from the room.

”I'm very sorry for you, Mrs. Carder,” said Geraldine breathlessly, meanwhile holding her plate firmly lest another crash bring back the owner, ”but I can't stay here. I must go away to-morrow.”

Her companion gave a fleeting glance around at the girl, and her withered lips relaxed in a smile as she shook her head.