"I won't sh-h, Nettie Trench. It's so and you know it. I hate superior people, Nettie. Father always did, too. And you know how he liked Larry. Dear papa! One night, Nettie—I was never so surprised—mamma all at once began to cry—imagine mamma crying! She was crying for papa, who had to die, she said, before she could appreciate the gentleness and warm heart that was in him. And papa always said that no kind of people go further to the bad than those who really think they're better than others. He used to say that such beasts, for their punishment, ought to be forced to herd by themselves."
I believe in what Nan said myself, but also, thinking of the wily woman waiting below, I decided that a little chastening of the spirit of rebellious girlhood would now be in order. So I said: "But a long record of the human race, Nan, proves that if we do not intend to try to be better than the people we happen to be with, then we ought to take care whom we are with."
"You and your sermons!" exclaimed Nan. "Nettie, dear, talk with me, not at me. Oh, Nettie"—Nan threw herself on my shoulders—"I never had a chance to tell him I'm not mad with him. And I'm afraid he'll do something desperate. And if they get to fighting down here, as everybody says, he will be killed! He's that kind, Nettie—he will be killed!"
"And isn't my Ned likely to be killed at all?" I said, beginning to get frightened too; and then, seeing her so tearful: "But it will be all right, dear—don't you worry."
"But, Nettie, why shouldn't a woman let a man know—or give him a hint? 'What!' says mamma to me, 'would you run after him?' But why should I be afraid to let him know that I do care for him?"
"I don't know why not, Nan. It depends on the man, perhaps."
"Did you ever let Ned know you cared for him before he asked—did you, Nettie?"
She was so wistful I almost forgot Larry behind the lattice, but I caught myself in time. "I hope, Nan Wedner, you don't think I proposed to him?"—that was with such dignity as I could quickly assume.
"But, Nettie"—she switched her head on my shoulder—"do you suppose Ned knew, Nettie?"
"I'm afraid," I sighed—I thought of Larry listening, but I had to tell her the truth—"he would have been dull not to guess it."