She turned her face away, to hide the tears in her eyes.
“My poor girl,” said Helen, taking her hand.
It was at an afternoon tea that the strange girl had confided to Helen Briggs the story of her baffled love-affair. Since that time Helen had often thought of it with a pity none the less real because it had the relief of amusement.
“And he wanted me to go right out, just as I was, and get married. He said he’d call a carriage.”
“I’m glad you didn’t, dear,” said Helen, trying to keep from smiling.
“I think I would have gone—only I just had my every-day dress on, and I looked horrid! It seemed so foolish to go like that. And now I’m sorry I didn’t. I never shall have the courage again.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes, because ma says that I’m not to see him any more. She made an awful fuss. That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. Won’t you please talk to ma? He’s just as good as he can be, and even if he isn’t very successful he earns enough for two. That’s all I care about.”
“But what can I say to your mother, dear? I don’t even know him.”
Carrie Cora looked down and began to rub the carpet with her foot. “Well, ma thinks everything of you, and if you’d just—just ask her to let him come to see me, that would be something. I’m sure she’ll like him when she understands him better. Pa likes him, but pa is afraid to oppose ma in anything, except when he gets roused.”