I have no children myself,
but--"
"Humph!" Luella sniffed furiously, "I sh'd hope not!"
"--but _if_ I had," he pursued evenly, "I should teach them
precisely--"
"Look here," Luella interrupted roughly, "look me in the face, both
of you!"
They turned their eyes full on her, the boy's dilated to
fanaticism, glowing with obstinacy; the girl's, wet and pleading,
miserable, but full of love. Luella, with narrowed lids, bored into
those clear young eyes: no shadow of deceit, no hint of shuffling or
double-dealing could withstand that relentless scrutiny.
Slowly her face softened, her eyebrows relaxed, her hold on the
twisted apron loosened.
"I guess we better talk this over," she said decisively, closing the
door and seating herself squarely in the chair nearest it. "How old
did you say you was, Mr. Wortley?"
The forensic expression faded helplessly from the boy's face. He
clutched at it, but it failed him, and with the air of a pupil
addressing his teacher, he replied: "I didn't say, but I'm
twenty-one."
Luella nodded. "An' you can't be a day over nineteen, can you?" she
demanded of the girl. The braided chestnut head shook sadly.
"I thought not. I s'pose you've found out that your views ain't
shared by most o' the world," she proceeded, with a fine air of
impartiality.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153