“Paid for it,” she repeated, with asperity, “there are some things money can’t pay for.”
This was a statement he could not deny, yet in some indefinable and inexplicable way he felt that she had been slightly lacking in her duty to the lovable butterfly outside. Melinda did not admire the pretty creature as he did; and at this very instant her unusual outspokenness and animation arose from her acute suspicion that their vivacious charge was about spreading her wings for flight.
She was a good woman, though, this wife of his, and she was only a trifle queer. However, everybody seemed queer but himself, and he sank into bitter and resigned reflection, and muttered, almost inaudibly, “After all said and done, we’ve got to take folks after the pattern they’re made, and not as we’d make ’em over.”
Mrs. Danvers saw that the tide was turning. “Israel,” she said, solemnly shaking her head at him, “no one will ever know what I’ve gone through with that child. When she was laid in my arms a little, motherless babe, and her tiny fingers curled around mine, my heart went out to her. She’s got it yet, but she’s been greatly provoking, and you’ve made too much of her, Israel, you know you have.”
“I’ll not deny I’ve favoured her some,” he said, gruffly.
“I’ve never spoken about it before,” she replied, nervously, “and I’ll never say it again; but I’ve been jealous of that girl, Israel, real jealous; and yet, with it all, you’ll not miss her as much when she goes as I will. A man gets over things. A woman broods.”
Mr. Danvers weakly toyed with a morsel of bread.
“I’ve got some of the mother spirit,” his wife went on, with tears in her eyes. “Enough of it, thank the Lord, to make me sorry to have her go. We’ve got to be lonely, Israel, real lonely, after she leaves, and I’m glad to have this talk first.”
Mr. Danvers was embarrassed, exceedingly embarrassed; and for the first time in his life was willing to acknowledge that possibly he might have done wrong, possibly he might have indulged too much the pink and white gipsy in the muslin frock outside. However, it was not befitting his position as head of the household to eat too large a piece of humble pie at one time, so he said, protestingly, “As for jealousy, how you women run on. You’re just like wildfire. Now I’ve liked that little girl just as if she was my own, but not like you, Melinda. A man’s wife is different. I wonder you speak of such a thing, and I a deacon in the church.”
“I wasn’t speaking of anything but your acting like a foolish father,” she said, indignantly. “Of course you’d never think of comparing Nina to me. She’s only a baby, and whatever happens, Israel Danvers, I hope you’ll remember I am your wedded wife. I know I’m getting old—”