Mrs. Burrell sighed. “It must have been hard.”
Helen at once pressed the point. “How long has Carrie Cora been waiting?” she asked.
“Oh, they’re not engaged,” Mrs. Burrell replied, reproachfully, as if this fact threw Carrie Cora’s case out of the discussion.
“But how long have they been fond of each other?”
“Well, as soon as I found it out I did my best to stop it,” said Mrs. Burrell, as if flaunting a generous act. “I just told him he wasn’t to come to the house any more. That was more’n two years ago.”
“So they haven’t seen anything of each other since?”
“Oh, yes, they have. Indeed they have. That girl’s just as obstinate. She’s her father all over. I’ve said that to my husband a thousand times since this trouble come on us. It’s spoiled our Winter here. That girl’s a damper on everything. I kind of thought when she come down here she’d get over it. But, as I was saying, she used to meet him ’round places in Auburn, mostly at Emily Farnsworth’s. Emily always was a great friend of Carrie Cora’s. I used to like Emily real well. Now we don’t speak.” Mrs. Burrell pressed her lips together again, and tears stood in her eyes.
“Those things are always unfortunate,” said Helen, sympathetically.
Mrs. Burrell clutched her by the arm. “There he is now!” she said, “over there. See that slim young man with the derby hat?”
“Who?” Helen asked, mystified.