“Yes,” said Dubby, still challenging Effie, “her brother has a right.” And Effie did not deny him. She had her courage, but the unexpectedness of Anne and the force of her, as if for all these years she had been winding up her will, which now came into play like a spring immensely braced in super-tightened coils, caused her to want an ally and she agreed that Dubby had a right if not the one conferred on him by Anne.
“Won’t you sit, Mrs. Branstone?” she said.
“I was wondering when I should hear your voice,” said Anne. “You’re not a talker, lass.”
“No,” said Effie.
“More of a doer.” Effie was wondering whether that was praise or condemnation, when Anne added: “I like you the better for that, though it’s a good voice. I haven’t heard it much, but I’ve heard it. I haven’t seen you much, but I’ve seen enough. I’m on your side, Effie.” She astonished them both by rising as if to go.
“But,” said Dubby, “is that all?”
Anne looked with humorous sympathy at Effie. “That’s men all over, isn’t it?” she said. “They’re fond of calling women talkers, but a man’s not happy till a thing’s been put in words. Me and your sister understand each other now.”
“I’m not quite certain that I do,” said Effie.
“Well, maybe you’re right,” conceded Anne. “It’s a fact that I told Sam last night I was coming round here to give you a piece of my mind, and I don’t notice that I’m doing it. The need seemed to go when I set eyes on you, and I’m pretty full of a thing I want to do, only I’ve not quite got the face to ask.”
“What is it, Mrs. Branstone?”