“Well, I must say I should think she would be if she compares them with some others.”
“Mother’s death on comparing,” remarked Miss Ruck.
“Of course I like to study things and to see for myself,” the elder lady returned. “I never had a chance till now; I never knew my privileges. Give me an American!” And, recovering her distance again, she seemed to impose this tax on the universe.
“Well, I must say there are some things I like over here,” said Miss Sophy with courage. And indeed I could see that she was a young woman of sharp affirmations.
Her father gave one of his ghostly grunts. “You like the stores—that’s what you like most, I guess.”
The young lady addressed herself to me without heeding this charge. “I suppose you feel quite at home here.”
“Oh he likes it—he has got used to the life. He says you can!” Mr. Ruck proclaimed.
“I wish you’d teach Mr. Ruck then,” said his wife. “It seems as if he couldn’t get used to anything.”
“I’m used to you, my dear,” he retorted, but with his melancholy eyes on me.
“He’s intensely restless,” continued Mrs. Ruck. “That’s what made me want to come to a pension. I thought he’d settle down more.”