“Of course,” repeated Mrs. Bronson.
“At home, now, and by their mothers,” added Mrs. Bonner.
“Well,” said Mrs. Bronson, “take them Simms girls, now. They have to have help outside their home if they are ever going to be like other folks.”
“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Bonner, “and a lot more help than a farm-hand can give ’em in school. Pretty poor trash, they, and I shouldn’t wonder if there was a lot we don’t know about why they come north.”
“As for that,” replied Mrs. Bronson, “I don’t know as it’s any of my business so long as they behave themselves.”
Again Mrs. Bonner felt the situation getting out of hand, and again she returned to the task of keeping Mrs. Bronson in alignment with the forces of accepted Woodruff District conditions.
“Ain’t it some of our business?” she queried. “I wonder now! By the way Newtie keeps his eye on that Simms girl, I shouldn’t wonder if it might turn out your business.”
“Pshaw!” scoffed Mrs. Bronson. “Puppy love!”
“You can’t tell how far it’ll go,” persisted Mrs. Bonner. “I tell you these schools are getting to be nothing more than sparkin’ bees, from the county superintendent down.”
“Well, maybe,” said Mrs. Bronson, “but I don’t see sparkin’ in everything boys and girls do as quick as some.”