Leaving her place behind the counter, she walked through the room with uplifted head and burning eyes, her heart filled with bitterness and fire. She hated the whole town, the whole State, at the moment. Were these “the chivalrous short-grass knights” she had heard so much about? These the large-souled “Western founders of empire”? At the moment she was in the belief that all the heroes of her childhood had been of the stamp of Neill Ballard—selfish, lustful, and cruel.
In the hall her pride, her sense of duty, came back to her, and she halted her fleeing feet. “I will not be beaten!” she declared, and her lips straightened. “I will not let these dreadful creatures make a fool of me in that way!”
Thereupon she turned and went back, pale now, but resolved to prove herself the mistress of the situation. Fortunately Redfield had returned, and his serene presence helped her to recover complete control of herself. She remained coldly blank to every compliment, and by this means she subdued them. “Why doesn’t the doctor return for his dinner?” she asked, after the room had cleared. The desire to know her mother’s real condition at last quite subordinated her own besetments. To some of the older men whom she knew to be neighbors and friends she gladly explained the situation, and their sympathy did something to restore her faith in humankind. Nevertheless, this hour of unprotected intercourse with the citizens of the town was disturbing, humiliating, and embittering.
The doctor appearing suddenly in the door beckoned to her, and, leaving her place, she crossed to where he stood. “Your mother needs you,” he said, curtly. “Go to her, and keep her quiet for an hour or two if you can.”
“What is the matter, doctor?”
“I can’t tell you precisely, but you must get her on a diet and keep her there. I will write out some lists for you after my luncheon.”
Lee found her mother sitting in such dejection as she had never known her to display, though she fired up sufficiently to say: “That cussed little thimble-rigger has been throwing a great big scare into me. He says I’ve got to get out-doors, live on raw meat and weak tea, and walk five miles a day. That’s what he says!” she added, in renewed astonishment at the man’s audacity. “Who’s at the cash?”
“Mr. Redfield,” replied Lee. “I’ll go right back.”
“No you won’t, I’m no dead horse yet.” She struggled to her feet and started for the cash-register. “I won’t let no little Omaha doughgie like that put me out o’ business.”