“’Cause they are the trustees of the property.”
“Then why don’t they ’tend to the property? The vestry are a lot of––” 69
“Sh! Hepsey, be careful. I’ll be there, I’ll be there!”
Mrs. Burke rose and started for the door; but Jonathan called out to her:
“Hepsey, can’t you stay to dinner? I’d like awful well to have you. It would seem so nice and homelike to see you sittin’ opposite me at the table.”
“Am I to consider this a proposal of marriage, Jonathan?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought of it in that light; but if you would, I’d be mighty thankful.”
But Hepsey was beating her retreat.
Jonathan stood for a minute or two in the middle of the room and looked very sober. Slowly he took off his coat and put on his dressing gown. Then he sat down, and cautiously put his feet in another chair. Next he lighted a cigar—gazing about the room as if his late wife might appear at any moment as an avenging deity, and drag him into the kitchen where he belonged. But nothing happened, and he began to feel a realization of his independence. He sat and thought for a long time, and a mighty hunger of the heart overwhelmed him. Before he knew it, a tear or two had fallen on the immaculate carpet; and then, suddenly recollecting himself, he stood up, saying to himself—such is the consistency of man: 70
“Sarah was a good soul accordin’ to her lights; but she’s dead, and I must confess I’m powerful reconciled. Hepsey Burke’s different. I wonder if––”