Sophie had got up and gone to the door while Martha was talking. She was amused at the idea of Mrs. Watty having forgiven her sufficiently to think that Potch was not a good enough match for her.
"Besides ... I did want you to go, Sophie," Martha continued. "They're all coming over from Warria—Mr. and Mrs. Henty and the girls, and Mrs. Arthur. They've got a party staying with them, up from Sydney ... and most of them have put up at Newton's for the night...."
She glanced at Sophie to see how she was taking this news. But no flicker of concern changed the thoughtful mask of Sophie's features as she leaned in the doorway looking out to the blue fall of the afternoon sky.
"They're coming over to see how the natives of these parts amuse theirselves," Martha declared scornfully. "They'll have on all the fine dresses and things they buy down in Sydney ... and I was lookin' to you, Sophie, to keep up our end. I've been thinkin' to meself, 'They think they're the salt of the earth, don't they? Think they're that smart ... we dress so funny ... and dance so funny, over at Fallen Star. But Sophie'll show them; Sophie'll take the shine out of them when they see her in one of the dresses she's brought from America.'"
As Martha talked, Sophie could see the ball-room at Warria as she had years before. She could see the people in it—figures swaying down the long veranda, the Henty girls, Mrs. Henty, Phyllis Chelmsford—their faces, the dresses they had worn; Arthur, John Armitage, James Henty, herself, as she had sat behind the piano, or turned the pages of her father's music. She could hear the music he and Mrs. Henty played; the rhythm of a waltz swayed her. A twinge of the old wrath, hurt indignation, and disappointment, vibrated through her.... She smiled to think of it, and of all the long time which lay between that night and now.
"I'd give anything for you to be there—looking your best," Martha continued. "I can't bear that lot to think you've come home because you weren't a success, as they say over there, or because...."
"Mr. Armitage wasn't as fond of me—as he used to be," Sophie murmured.
Martha caught the mocking of a gleam in her eyes as she spoke. No one knew why Sophie had come home; but Mrs. Newton had given Martha an American newspaper with a paragraph in it about Sophie. Martha had read and re-read it, and given it to several other people to read. She put her iron on the hearth and disappeared into the bedroom which opened off her kitchen.
"This is all I know about it, Sophie," she said, returning with the paper.
She handed the paper to Sophie, and Sophie glanced at a marked paragraph on its page.