“It ain’t no affair of mine,” remarked M’rye, when the pause came, “but if that’s your business with Abner, you won’t make much by waitin’. Of course it’s nothing to me, one way or t’other.”
Not another word was exchanged for a long time. From where I sat I could see the girl’s lips tremble, as she looked steadfastly into the wall. I felt certain that M’rye was darning the same place over and over again, so furiously did she keep her needle flying.
All at once she looked up angrily. “Well,” she said, in loud, bitter tones: “Why not out with what you’ve come to say, ’n’ be done with it? You’ve heard something, I know!”
Esther shook her head. “No, Mrs. Beech,” she said, with a piteous quaver in her voice, “I—I haven’t heard anything!”
The sound of her own broken utterances seemed to affect her deeply. Her eyes filled with tears, and she hastily got out a handkerchief from her muff, and began drying them. She could not keep from sobbing aloud a little.
M’rye deliberately took another stocking from the heap in the basket, fitted it over the ball, and began a fresh task—all without a glance at the weeping girl.
Thus the two women still sat, when Janey came in to lay the table for supper. She lifted the lamp off to spread the cloth, and put it on again; she brought in plates and knives and spoons, and arranged them in their accustomed places—all the while furtively regarding Miss Hagadorn with an incredulous surprise. When she had quite finished she went over to her mistress and, bending low, whispered so that we could all hear quite distinctly: “Is she goin’ to stay to supper?”
M’rye hesitated, but Esther lifted her head and put down the handkerchief instantly. “Oh, no!” she said, eagerly: “don’t think of it! I must hurry home as soon as I’ve seen Mr. Beech.” Janey went out with an obvious air of relief.
Presently there was a sound of heavy boots out in the kitchen being thrown on to the floor, and then Abner came in. He halted in the doorway, his massive form seeming to completely fill it, and devoted a moment or so taking in the novel spectacle of a neighbor under his roof. Then he advanced, walking obliquely till he could see distinctly the face of the visitor. It stands to reason that he must have been surprised, but he gave no sign of it.
“How d’ do, Miss,” he said, with grave politeness, coming up and offering her his big hand.