The stern-faced Wiggett listened to her grimly.
He was not surprised to hear she loved David; he was surprised that Mary should come to him for aid. The actual word “love” was not mentioned; we avoid it in Riverbank except when speaking of others.
“Father, I like David well enough to marry him, if he asked me,” was what she said.
Further than this she told him nothing but the truth—that the respectable members of the church were shocked by the attention David was paying 'Thusia and that they were talking about it. It was a shame, she said, that he should lose everyone's respect in that way when the only trouble was that he did not understand.
“You men can't see it, of course, father,” she said. “You don't understand what it means, as we do. And we can't speak to Mr. Dean. I can't speak to him.”
“I'll tell that young man a thing or two!” growled Mr. Wiggett angrily.
“No, not you, father,” Mary begged, and when he looked at her with surprise she blushed. “Huh!” he said, “why not?”
“I—listen, father! I couldn't bear it if he thought I had sent you. I should die of shame. If you went to him, he might guess.”
“Well, you want to marry him, don't you!”
“If he wants me. But—yes, I do like him, father.”