“It ain't fit for an unmarried woman like you to be takin' care of him,” said her mother, and a sudden blush flamed over her old face.
Charlotte did not blush at all. “William comes in every day,” she said, simply.
“I think he could get along a while now with what William does an' what we could cook an' bring in,” pleaded her mother. “I'd come over every day an' set a while; I'd jest as lieves as not. If you'd only come home, Charlotte. Your father didn't mean anythin' when he said you shouldn't. He asked me jest this mornin' when you was comin'.”
“I ain't coming till he's well enough so he don't need me,” said Charlotte. “There's no use talking, mother. I must go back now; he'll wonder what we're talking about;” and she shut the door gently upon her mother, still talking.
Her aunt Hannah came, and her aunt Sylvia, quaking with gentle fears. She even had to listen to remonstrances from William Berry, honestly grateful as he was for her care of his brother-in-law.
“I ain't quite sure that it's right for you to stay here, Charlotte,” he said, looking away from her uncomfortably. “Rebecca says—‘Hadn't you better let me go for that woman again?’”
“I think I had better stay for the present,” Charlotte replied.
“Of course—I know you do better for him—than anybody else could, but—”
“How is Rebecca?” asked Charlotte.
“She is getting along pretty well, but it's slow. She's kind of worried about you, you know. She's had considerable herself to bear. It's hard to have folks—” William stopped short, his face burning.