He moistened his lips once more, and tried again. “And—and I thought maybe she was right,” he got out at last.
“She is not right. She isn’t!”
“And everybody’s laughin’ at the Chapin boy—”
“I’ll never laugh at him.”
“An’ I thought—” He swallowed again. “I thought, ‘Maybe it’ll be you they’ll all be laughin’ at next week.’” He paused a moment. “And—and now you know it all,” he ended.
“I understand.” Julie’s eyes were suddenly full of tears, so that his strained face, gazing hungrily down at her, was blurred through them. “I know. I was sitting here thinking that, too. I was thinking, if I was a man maybe that was just what I’d do. Maybe I wouldn’t stand up against things any better than that Chapin boy.”
“You? You thought that?”
“Yes,” she nodded back at him.
“Then you know,” he said, with a breath of relief. “I didn’t want any one to laugh at him,” he went on. “Don’t laugh,” he pleaded, as though now he were defending the Chapin boy to that cold outside world that had laughed. “Maybe he just couldn’t help it, the poor feller! Life’s mighty big for some folks—too big—bigger than a lot of us knows how to stand up against. You don’t know how hard he tried; folks don’t know how hard a person tries; but you understand, Miss Rose?” He suddenly broke off, his eyes coming back to her face. “You understand, Miss Julie?”
“Yes, I understand,” she answered faithfully. “An’ I know about life being so big.”