"Oh, darn," said Mrs. Horne.
We were treated on succeeding days to the spectacle of Lafe hovering about Mrs. Vining like a fly above molasses paper—he knows he ought not to be there at all, but cannot keep away. I am persuaded that a third party could have heard all they said without embarrassment; but still, there was Hetty. And it interfered with his work, just when he was new to it and should have applied himself whole-heartedly. The entire superintendence of the Anvil range fell to him, but Lafe now gave up long trips. When he did go out, Mrs. Vining went with him on the pretext of familiarizing herself with the country. Lafe began to assume a hint of bravado in his bearing and was evidently flattered that he could attract a woman of Mrs. Vining's world.
"Judith," said Mrs. Horne, "if you don't let up on Lafe Johnson, I'll tell his wife, or get Bob to give him his time."
"His time? What's that?" she asked in amaze. She had just got out of bed and was brushing her yellow hair. They could hear Johnson whistling "Turkey in the Straw" as he went past the house.
"Fire him." Her friend faced Mrs. Vining squarely. She was intensely angry. "What do you mean by taking him out on the porch as you did last night?"
"Martha, how dare you say such a thing? You're horribly rude and—and unkind. Why, I never thought—"
"Of course you didn't," Mrs. Horne went on in a level voice. "You never do. And you're going to tell me all that nonsense? Remember, I'm a woman, Judy, and the woman was never born who wouldn't lie about some things."
"We're nothing but the most casual friends," said Mrs. Vining warmly.
Mrs. Horne stopped her with a gesture of passionate impatience. "Who said you were anything else? Will nothing sober you? I would have thought that Harry—"
"You're cruel, Martha. Yes, you are. Will you leave me alone to dress?"