“A wild and rash thing, you mean. So it surely was; but it turned out all right, and I’m glad I did it. Of course you know our story. All the country is talking of it. We lived ten miles up the river, in a cabin, very little better than niggers. I couldn’t stand it. There was no life for me, no future. I was only seventeen when I went away. I never expected to come back. Think of it—a country girl from the big swamps. I’d only once been on a railway train in my life. It makes me tremble to think what might have happened to me, but I must have had luck, for I never had any great amount of trouble. Everybody was nice to me—almost. It’s only in the South that a girl could have got through so well.”
“You found the life you wanted?”
“Well—not to perfection. You were at Lyman & Fourget’s, too, you know. But it was a better life, and I might have stayed. Then came the great change in our fortunes. But it wasn’t the money that brought me back. Everybody thinks it was, but it wasn’t. There were more reasons than one. I knew that papa and the boys wanted me back, and they needed me mighty bad—worse than when we were poor. Mamma has been dead for years, you know, and I don’t know what this place would have come to, if I hadn’t taken the helm.”
In the dining room there was another great burst of laughter, and a crash of falling chips. The pungent cigar smoke floated out through the window.
“Do you like it here?” said Lockwood gently.
“Yes—but I didn’t think it would be like this,” with a gesture toward the open window.
“Poker?”
“Yes—everything. You’ve seen something; you’ll see more. I can’t blame the boys so much. They’re the best fellows in the world. But they haven’t a thing to do; they grew up idle, and now their pockets are full of money, and they’re bursting with life, and they’re always looking for something new to play with. And Mr. Hanna——”
“Yes?” said Lockwood, with intense interest.
Just then old Power awoke with a sudden snort. He took down his feet from the railing, yawned and looked about confusedly.