"Yes, she did, sitting at a table, not eating a thing. She'd have burst out crying if I hadn't made her stop it."
"By heck! Emily, the kid must be sick!"
"Yes, she is. The doctor said I have to take good care of her and keep her out of doors. When you go in to see her, Bob, just pretend nothing's happened. Don't let her get started apologizing."
"All right. Do you think—is she over that—that business with that damned skunk?"
"Oh yes, I think so. I think she's ashamed of it all."
"Well, that's something, anyway."
It was the neighbors who began coming in at once to inquire sympathetically about Martha, who kept Emily uneasy. Each woman's solicitude seemed to necessitate the hurried invention of new details, and Emily, not used to deceit, could scarcely be sure her stories tallied. Johnnie Benton gave her a moment of difficulty. He wouldn't be content with vagueness.
"Look here, Mrs. Kenworthy, what is the matter with her, when you get right down to brass tacks?"
"Tut, tut, Johnnie! Do you think I haven't been right down to brass tacks all the time?"
"Nervous breakdown, that's just a sort of excuse for anything, I thought."