“I expect that your literary work takes up most of your time.”
Barbara caught her breath sharply. How much had that dreadful woman heard?
“Of course you may not be writing, but I have had my suspicions about it, since I met you with that fat envelope with the Century Company’s stamp, a week ago. I knew that you had done a bit of writing at school, and I put two and two together, and said to myself, ‘Barbara Grafton’s gone to writing.’ I couldn’t help wondering if the ‘Century’ had taken it, or sent it back. Of course, being an author myself, I’m always interested in budding genius. What is it, Barbara, poetry or fiction?”
Out of the shadow of the porch vines came Gassy’s sharp little voice. “Jack cut your poetry out of the paper this morning, Miss Bates,” she said.
“Did he?” said Miss Bates, delightedly. “I didn’t know Jack was so appreciative as that. I’m afraid the poetry wasn’t as good as some I have written. But I felt it—every word of it—when I wrote it. And I suppose Jack liked its tone of sincerity. That is my highest ambition: not to win fame or money, but to be cut out and carried in the vest-pocket.”
“He said,” giggled Gassy, from behind the vines, “that he couldn’t have the sanctity of the home invaded,”—the imitation of Jack’s inflection was perfect,—“an’ that he wouldn’t suffer our minds,—David’s and mine, he meant,—to be c’rrupted, so he cut it out; but I think he sent it to mother. We always save all the funny things for her, to cheer her up, now she’s sick.”
The darkness hid the terrible expression upon Miss Bates’s face, but it did not conceal the frigidity of her tones as she took her elbows from the doctor’s gate. “Your sister’s got a job in giving you some of her college culture, Gassy Grafton,” she said to the small fold of light gingham which showed alongside the vine-clad porch post. She looked back over her shoulder to fire her last volley of ammunition.
“I hope it will amuse your mother,” she said. “If you’d all been a little less selfish about using her like a hack-horse when she was at home, you wouldn’t have to be sending jokes to her at a sanitarium, now.”