“I’ll do it, ma,” she agreed. “I am going away to be happy. John and his mother never have a word together that isn’t pleasant.”
“I hope so,” Mrs. Farnshaw said with relief, “but men don’t always treat their wives like they do their mothers. It’s something they get t’ feel about their wives that’s th’ trouble. Women think th’ only way t’ be good wives’s t’ give up—an’ men think so too. Women’s most always afraid of what th’ men ’ll think, an’ th’ men know it.”
“Well, ma, come on! There’s lots to do; let’s get at it.”
Elizabeth was in no mood to philosophize. She hated the coming conference with her father to the utter exclusion of every other thought at that moment, and had hardly heard what her mother had said.
“You’ll never regret bein’ good t’ your old mother,” Mrs. Farnshaw said, rubbing her hand over the girl’s glossy braids as Elizabeth turned away to begin the work she had suggested. “My! it don’t seem like six weeks since I was your age—young an’ startin’ out—an’ life looked good t’ me, I kin tell you. Now I ain’t got nothin’ t’ be good t’ me but you.”
“I think I’ll wash my hair before the sun gets low,” Elizabeth said. “Then I’ll help you in here.” She was disturbed about the promise she had given and wanted to get away from her mother before she should say some unlucky thing that would show it. She let her hair down and loosened it with a toss of her head. It was a glittering garment which covered her from head to knees in wavy strands which flew about her in lines of beauty as she moved about getting her hot water and towels. Mrs. Farnshaw watched her with an expression near real affection. She came over and ran her hands through the rippling mass as the girl turned to go out of doors where she could splash comfortably, and after she had gone passed her hands over her own faded locks slowly.
“Lizzie’s always had th’ best of everything,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I wisht she wasn’t s’ set against ’er pa. I’m goin’ t’ make ’er do it all th’ same.”
The girl in the backyard pondered upon the same thing as she dried her hair in the hot sun.
“I hate it,” she thought, “but I’m going to do it just the best I know how. Ma didn’t say it, nor agree with it, and I’m going to make it as easy as I can for her before I go. Will we ever be like they are?” she asked herself half seriously, and felt sure it could not be. “Ma has always insisted on things and never lets pa nor the rest of us forget anything or lay it down. I believe a woman can manage those things. Aunt Susan does.”
As Elizabeth started to the house, she noticed her father and the boys coming from the cornfield with a wagon-load of snapped corn. Joe drove the team and his father sat in the back with his feet dangling over the end-gate. They were turning into the barnyard when she discovered them.