I laughed.
"There are generally two sides to that kind of story."
"At the meeting of the trustees to-morrow it is to be decided what's to be done with her, because she says she doesn't want to go to school any more. She's never had much of a chance before to learn anything, and she's in a class with little bits of girls, and she doesn't like it—says she'd rather go to work to earn her own living."
Belle came home from that meeting with her face ablaze with righteous wrath. Her hands trembled so much over the teacups at our evening meal that even sixteen year old Watty, our eldest son, remarked it.
"What's the matter with mamma? Her trolley's off."
I knew there was trouble in the wind, so I fortified myself with a good supper and read my paper at the same time, to leave myself free for what was to follow. The children study their lessons in the back end of the nursery, and I therefore forbore to take up my usual position upon the sofa, but withdrew to the parlor with my pipe.
Presently my wife followed me, nearly walking over the furniture in her excitement.
"Go on, Belle; out with it!"
"You will listen, will you, seriously?"
"Certainly, mawm. I never had any sort of an objection to your making a scavenger barrel of me, so go ahead."