"No, it isn't. It exists 'in spite of' everything, and not 'because of' anything. The traditions may try to make you stand it on the other leg, it's a way they have; but the fact remains."
She shook her head in deprecation.
"The 'traditions,' are about to send me into the house, and the principal problem is yet untouched. What have you done with Nancy?"
He told her briefly and exactly, adding nothing and omitting nothing; and her word for it was "impossible."
"Don't you understand?" she objected. "I may choose to believe that this home making for poor Nan and her waif is merely a bit of tardy justice on your part and honor you for it. But nobody else will take that view of it. If you keep her in that little cabin of yours, Mountain View Avenue will have a fit—and very properly."
"I don't see why it should," he protested densely.
"Don't you? That's because you are still so hopelessly primeval. People won't give you credit for the good motive; they will quote that Scripture about the dog and the sow. You must think of some other way."
"Supposing I say I don't care a hang?"
"Oh, but you do. You have your father and mother and—and me to consider, however reckless you may be for yourself and Nancy. You mustn't leave her where she is for a single day."
"I can leave her there if I like. I've told her she may stay as long as she wants to."