Thus recalled to his domestic ties he rose stiffly and hastily. A late guest would be unpardonable. "We'd better walk down to the house."
Sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, Ellen smoothed the paths of others.
"You needn't go down now; I'll go alone. After supper, can you come with me to see Grandfather?"
"Yes."
He walked with her to the opening between the two posts; then he did not return to his work, but went back to the log and sat down. She was but a few years younger than he, but she was youthful, free, unburdened, her life was just beginning. Education had not hurt her. For the first time a serious doubt of his own wisdom troubled him. He also for the first time experienced jealousy—he did not wish any one but himself to help Ellen.
His thoughts followed her down the hill. He hoped that Millie would be polite. He saw Millie through the eyes of an outsider such as Ellen had become, her ignorance, her dullness, her stubbornness. He was at this moment all Levis.
Like Matthew, Millie did not at first recognize Ellen. She always thought of her as a forlorn person, but this was no forlorn person who stood at the door. She believed at first that Ellen was some sort of agent, but after a moment's curious contemplation she said, "Well, is it you!"
Then she was silent. She saw the beautiful suit and hat and compared Ellen's appearance with her own, her straggling hair and her dark calico dress, open at the throat since she had last nursed her baby.
"You would never have caught me like this before I was married!" she cried, expressing in her tone all her weariness and bitterness.