But Angelica’s reception of his proposal she didn’t mention. She saw that there was something a bit strained in that quarter, something which talking might make worse, so she held her tongue, confident that it would end right enough. A girl’s whim! She knew her daughter; Angelica was far too sensible and shrewd not to take advantage of such an opportunity. She permitted herself to dream of a future for her child glorious beyond all her former hopes.
For herself she expected nothing. She knew—none better—what there is of gratitude in this world. She trusted her child, knew that she would never forget or neglect her, but she knew also that Angelica was likely to rise where she never could follow. There would be a pension, no doubt, but no real share in any future grandeur for Mrs. Kennedy, scrubwoman, janitress, and martyr.
Her dreaming was disturbed, however, and her happiness turned to uneasiness by the arrival of a second man that night. She heard the bell ring and her daughter hasten to the door, and then come back again.
"Mommer, do you mind if I go out for a little while?" she asked.
"Who with, Angie?"
"A feller," said Angelica. "I’ll be back inside of an hour, sure. Will you be all right?"
"What fellow?"
"A new beau," Angelica told her, laughing. "By-by, mommer! Back soon!"
So joyous, so excited! It didn’t look well for Eddie.
"Now what in the world is that child up to?" Mrs. Kennedy thought.