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“You’re late, Hattie,” they all said, as if an agreement had been made to say it when she sat down.
“I know.” She did not move in her chair.
“Better not eat much,” said Aunt Maude. “It’s eight-thirty. You should’ve been at school. What’ll the superintendent say? Fine example for a teacher to set her pupils.”
The three stared at her.
Hattie was smiling.
“You haven’t been late in twelve years, Hattie,” said Aunt Maude.
Hattie did not move, but continued smiling.
“You’d better go,” they said.
Hattie walked to the hall to take down her green umbrella and pi
THE GREAT FIRE
THE MORNING THE great fire started, nobody in the house could put it out. It was mother’s niece, Maria
Mother and father moved away, the warmth in the room being excessive.
“Good morning, Maria
“What?" Maria
“Did you sleep well last night, Maria
But they knew she hadn’t slept. Mother gave Maria
“What?” said Maria
“Love is godmother to stupidity,” said father, detachedly.
“She’ll be all right,” mother said to father. “Girls only seem stupid because when they’re in love they can’t hear.”
“It affects the semicircular canals,” said father. “Making many girls fall right into a fellow’s arms. I know. I was almost crushed to death once by a falling woman and let me tell you—”
“Hush.” Mother frowned, looking at Maria
“She can’t hear what we’re saying; she’s cataleptic right now.”
“He’s coming to pick her up this morning,” whispered mother to father, as if Maria
Father patted his mouth with a napkin. “Was our daughter like this, Mama?” he wanted to know. “She’s been married and gone so long, I’ve forgotten. I don’t recall she was so foolish. One would never know a girl had an ounce of sense at a time like this. That’s what fools a man. He says, Oh what a lovely brainless girl, she loves me, I think I’ll marry her. He marries her and wakes up one morning and all the dreaminess is gone out of her and her intellect has returned, unpacked, and is hanging up undies all about the house. The man begins ru
“How you do run on,” cried mother. “Maria
“What? Oh—Isak, yes.” Maria
This morning she had clapped her hands over her head in the mirror and come to breakfast, remembering just in time to put on a dress.
Grandma laughed quietly all during breakfast. Finally she said, “You must eat, child, you must.” So Maria
“Whoop!” cried Maria
The young Isak Van Pelt was brought in and introduced around.
When Maria
“You were the one who suggested she start going out,” said mother.
“And I’m sorry I suggested it,” he said. “But she’s been visiting us for six months now, and six more months to go. I thought if she met some nice young man—”
“And they were married,” husked grandma darkly, “why, Maria
“Well,” said father.
“Well,” said grandma.
“But now it’s worse than before,” said father. “She floats around singing with her eyes shut, playing those infernal love records and talking to herself. A man can stand so much. She’s getting so she laughs all the time, too. Do eighteen-year-old girls often wind up in the booby hatch?”
“He seems a nice young man,” said mother.
“Yes, we can always pray for that,” said father, taking out a little shot glass. “Here’s to an early marriage.”
The second morning Maria
“She almost knocked me down.” Father brushed his mustache. “What’s that? Brained eggs? Well.”
In the afternoon, Maria
“I’m afraid to go in my own parlor,” said father. “I retired from business to smoke cigars and enjoy living, not to have a limp relative humming about under the parlor chandelier.”
“Hush,” said mother.
“This is a crisis,” a
“You know how visiting girls are. Away from home they think they’re in Paris, France. She’ll be gone in October. It’s not so dreadful.”
“Let’s see,” figured father, slowly. “I’ll have been buried just about one hundred and thirty days out at Green Lawn Cemetery by then.” He got up and threw his paper down into a little white tent on the floor. “By George, Mother, I’m talking to her right now!”
He went and stood in the parlor door, peering through it at the waltzing Maria
Clearing his throat, he stepped through.
“Maria
“That old black magic...” sang Maria
He watched her hands swinging in the air. She gave him a sudden fiery look as she danced by.
“I want to talk to you.” He straightened his tie.
“Dah dum dee dum dum dee dum dee dum dum,” she sang.
“Did you hear me?” he demanded.
“He’s so nice,” she said.
“Evidently.”
“Do you know, he bows and opens doors like a doorman and plays a trumpet like Harry James and brought me daisies this morning?”
“I wouldn’t doubt.”
“His eyes are blue.” She looked at the ceiling.
He could find nothing at all on the ceiling to look at.
She kept looking, as she danced, at the ceiling as he came over and stood near her, looking up, but there wasn’t a rain spot or a settling crack there, and he sighed, “Maria
“And we ate lobster at that river café.”
“Lobster. I know, but we don’t want you breaking down, getting weak. One day, tomorrow, you must stay home and help your Aunt Math make her doilies—”