“Kansas flour brushes off easily, ma,” she said, “and I’ve got something to tell you.”
The corners of Mrs. Farnshaw’s mouth twitched in a pleased effort to cover a smile.
Elizabeth was surprised at her own statement. She had not exactly intended to tell her mother at this time and could not understand herself in having put the idea forth, that she had come all the way home to tell something of importance. She sat down and leaned her elbows on the littered kitchen table too confused to speak for a moment. She had made the plunge; there was no other excuse for the trip that she could think of at that time, and, with a feeling that Aunt Susan had been defrauded of something distinctly belonging to her, Elizabeth broke the silence with the bald statement.
“Mr. Hunter and I are going to be married.”
“Well, Lizzie, that ain’t much news; we seen it comin’ weeks ago,” the mother replied with a laugh.
“You did? I don’t see how you knew,” the girl said, startled out of her confusion.
“What’s he been comin’ here so steady for?” Mrs. Farnshaw replied, scraping the side of her bread pan with a kitchen knife, and ready to enter into this delightful bit of argument. Lizzie was doing well for herself.
“Lots of girls have steady company and don’t get married either,” the girl replied hesitantly.
“Oh, yes, but this is different,” the mother said. “When’s it goin’ t’ be?”
“Some time in October,” Elizabeth said, her words dragging. She had consented, but the mere mention of the time made her shrink.