“Do!” she exclaimed as though she had received some kind of inspiration from the smiling boyish countenance on her dressing table. “Do! I must go on loving Grandpa Jim and I must protect Danny’s name and explain his sudden departure and never let anyone know what I am suffering. I must go about my business and keep up so I won’t be a sad, broken old woman when Danny comes home. I must wash my face and powder my nose and get ready for Dr. Coles. I must smile and pretend I knew all the time Danny was going and I wanted him to go because it will be such a good thing for him. I must write him a wonderful letter to San Francisco to speed him on his way. I must face the fact that Grandpa Jim is cra—, no not that awful word—but just a little peculiar. I must even forgive him for being so horribly cruel to my dear, dear boy. He didn’t know what he was doing. I must be brave! I must be worthy of Danny! I must be worthy of poor Grandpa Jim, who has been so wonderful all his life. Maybe Dr. Coles can cure him.”
The determination to be brave worked wonders for Mary Louise. She washed her face vigorously, trying to remove all traces of tears, but she felt like Lady Macbeth in the sleep walking scene when she cried, “Out damned spot!” and then later decided that all the perfumes of Arabia would not sweeten that little hand—only it was Mary Louise’s face that refused to be washed clean of tears. She did her best, however, and a little powder helped wonderfully to conceal the ravages of convulsive weeping. She changed her suit for a pretty soft dinner gown of old rose, one that Danny had especially liked and then she bravely stepped forth to take up the burden of facing life. She felt that she had never really faced life before, even when she had gone through such trials as a child and young girl. As she remembered them, she was thankful that having gone through with them had given her strength to bear what was placed on her shoulders now.
“Danny first! Danny first!” she said to herself as she went down the steps. “Nobody must think for an instant or intimate that he has left home because there is a cloud between us. I must take the stand that everything is all right and I approve of his going and it is all for the best.”
She went to the kitchen first, where Aunt Sally was grumbling and rumbling over her pots and pans.
She overheard her saying to Eben, “Hi there, nigger! Come here an’ take this here dinner in befo’ it gits col’!”
“Well you come here an’ make room fer this here piece er ice in yo’ ’frigerator befo’ it gits hot,” was Eben’s retaliation. “You’m so dodblasted ’ticular ’bout yo’ ’frigerator you won’t let me han’le it.”
“No, I won’t let you han’le it! They’s too many li’l temptations in that there ’frigerator ter be a tu’nin’ you loose in it. They’s trouble enough in this here dommersile ’thout you a eatin’ up the li’l lef’-overs what I mought be a considerin’ er puttin’ in a pie or somethin’ er other.”
“Humph!” was all Eben deigned in reply.
“You mus’ ’scuse me, Eben, if I kinder light you up,” said Aunt Sally. “I’s turrible upset ’bout our white folks.”
“You needn’t be worried about me, Aunt Sally,” said Mary Louise, coming into the kitchen. She was trying to smile and it might have passed muster for a smile with anyone but Aunt Sally, but the old woman knew her young mistress too well not to realize that the smile was forced.