Part 8 (2/2)
Unaware of the emotion she produced in him, Jane checked her hoop and halted.
”G'd afternoon, Mister Parcher,” she said, gravely.
”Good afternoon,” he returned, without much spirit.
Jane looked up at him trustfully and with a strange, unconscious fondness. ”You goin' home now, Mr. Parcher?” she asked, turning to walk at his side. She had suspended the hoop over her left arm and transferred the bread-and-b.u.t.ter and apple sauce and sugar to her right, so that she could eat even more conveniently than before.
”I suppose so,” he murmured.
”My brother Willie's been at your house all afternoon,” she remarked.
He repeated, ”I suppose so,” but in a tone which combined the vocal tokens of misery and of hopeless animosity.
”He just went home,” said Jane. ”I was 'cross the street from your house, but I guess he didn't see me. He kept lookin' back at your house.
Miss Pratt was on the porch.”
”I suppose so.” This time it was a moan.
Jane proceeded to give him some information. ”My brother Willie isn't comin' back to your house to-night, but he doesn't know it yet.”
”What!” exclaimed Mr. Parcher.
”Willie isn't goin' to spend any more evenings at your house at all,”
said Jane, thoughtfully. ”He isn't, but he doesn't know it yet.”
Mr. Parcher gazed fixedly at the wonderful child, and something like a ray of suns.h.i.+ne flickered over his seamed and harried face. ”Are you SURE he isn't?” he said. ”What makes you think so?”
”I know he isn't,” said demure Jane. ”It's on account of somep'm I told mamma.”
And upon this a gentle glow began to radiate throughout Mr. Parcher. A new feeling budded within his bosom; he was warmly attracted to Jane.
She was evidently a child to be cherished, and particularly to be encouraged in the line of conduct she seemed to have adopted. He wished the Bullitt and Watson families each had a little girl like this. Still, if what she said of William proved true, much had been gained and life might be tolerable, after all.
”He'll come in the afternoons, I guess,” said Jane. ”But you aren't home then, Mr. Parcher, except late like you were that day of the Sunday-school cla.s.s. It was on account of what you said that day. I told mamma.”
”Told your mamma what?”
”What you said.”
Mr. Parcher's perplexity continued. ”What about?”
”About Willie. YOU know!” Jane smiled fraternally.
”No, I don't.”
”It was when I was layin' in the liberry, that day of the Sunday-school cla.s.s,” Jane told him. ”You an' Mrs. Parcher was talkin' in there about Miss Pratt an' Willie an' everything.”
”Good heavens!” Mr. Parcher, summoning his memory, had placed the occasion and Jane together. ”Did you HEAR all that?”
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