This good counsel prevailed, and the other woman settled into a calmer state.
"Well, it's a dreadful thing, anyhow."
"Perfectly dreadful! But you mustn't take a conventional view of it. You must remember, a good, handsome, healthy man should come first as a husband, and this young man is very attractive, and I must admit he seems a gentleman, so far as I can see. Besides, you can't do anything by storming up to that poor girl. Let her alone for a few days."
Following this suggestion, no one alluded to the fight, or appeared to notice Edith's changed moods, but Mrs. Saulisbury could not forbear giving her an occasional squeeze of wordless sympathy, as she passed her.
It was pitiful to see the tumult and fear and responsibility of the world coming upon this dainty, simple-hearted girl. Life had been so straightforward before. No toil, no problems, no choosing of things for one's self. Now suddenly here was the greatest problem of all coming at the end of a summer-time outing.
Meanwhile Arthur was longing to see Edith once more, and wondering why she had stopped coming.
The Major came up on Friday and Saturday, but came alone, and that left only the hope of seeing Edith at church, and the young fellow worked on with that to nerve his arm.
The family respected his departure on Sunday. They plainly felt his depression, and sympathized with it.
"Walk home with her. I would," said Mrs. Richards, as he went through the kitchen.
"So would I. Dang me if I'd stand off," Richards started to say, but Arthur did not stop to listen.