“Now, Bla-anie, that’s a nice way to talk,” her mother cried. “I’m ashamed of you, I am. He’s never done you no harm, far’s I know, an’ he’s been acourtin’ you for over two years now, an’ besides, he’s gone an’ made you ’n hon-rable pruposul. You could do lots worse than marryin’ him, you could.”
“Listen, have I got to go through this whole thing over again?” Blanche asked, exasperated. “I wouldn’t marry Campbell ’f he had ten million and owned the subway system, and there’s no sense to this endless jawing match we put on. You can’t understand me and you never will—it’s not your fault, you just can’t, and what’s more, you ought to realize it by this time. I’m going my own way and you might as well leave me alone.”
“Is that so,” her father replied, with a dull, puzzled anger shining in his little eyes. “I-is that so. You’re jest a stranger here, I s’pose, an’ you’ve dropped in tuh have supper with us. Sure, that’s it. I’m not your father an’ I’ve got nothin’ tuh say about you, huh? You’ve got a lot of nerve f’r a person your age, you have.”
“Yeh, she’s gettin’ a swelled head, all right,” Harry said. “Guess I’ll have to beat up ’nother one uh her phony guys, an’ tone her down a bit.”
“Oh, you’re just full of wind,” Blanche answered, indifferently.
Mabel had been listening to Blanche with a mixture of reluctant loyalty and annoyance—this “nut” sister of hers was certainly impossible to understand, but Campbell had “done her dirty” just the same, and Blanche had a perfect right to detest him, and it was about time that the family stopped nagging her on that subject. Mabel’s antagonism against men and her regarding them as a would-be preying sex made it imperative that she should be on her sister’s side in this question, almost against her will.
“I know Blan’s a nut, but stop razzing her about this Campbell stuff,” she said, glancing disapprovingly around the table. “The way you all rave about him a person’d think he was a king ’r something. He’s just like other fellows—waving his dough around an’ trying to put it over on ev’ry girl he meets. What do you want to do anyway—tie Blan up an’ carry her down to the license-bureau? She oughta have some rights around here.”
Taken aback by this unexpected defense from Mabel, and not being able to think of any immediate and adequate retort, in spite of their emotional opposition, the parents and Harry lapsed into a short silence, after which they returned to minor complaints and jovialities. It was easy to battle with Blanche, who outraged all of their petted hopes and ideas, but when Mabel contradicted them, their feeling of innate kinship with her placed them in a temporarily bewildered state in which they wondered whether they might not be slightly wrong. Philip, who had squirmed distressedly in his chair and tried to look unconcerned, according to his custom, secretly prayed for Blanche to revolt and leave home. It would be better for her—she’d be happier then, in her crazy but rather likably independent way—and if she did there’d be some peace around the flat, for the first time.
Blanche, who had felt relieved and a little unwillingly affectionate as she heard her sister’s support, drew back her chair to leave the table.
“Going out to-night?” Philip asked casually, as he rose.