"You're clean enough," Grandmother observed, tartly. "Anybody'd think you had a beau waitin' for you somewheres."
Young People's Calls
She flushed to her temples, but did not speak. Her face was still red when she went out, wearing a brown straw hat three Summers old.
"The paper says," Grandmother continued, "that a blush is becomin' to some women, but Rosemary ain't one that looks well with a red face. Do you suppose she has got a beau?"
"Can't prove it by me," Matilda sighed, looking pensively out of the window. "That Marsh boy come to see her once, though."
"He didn't come again, I notice, no more'n the minister did."
"No," Matilda rejoined, pointedly, with a searching glance at Grandmother, "and I reckon it was for the same reason. When young folks comes to see young folks, they don't want old folks settin' in the room with 'em all the time, talkin' about things they ain't interested in."
"Young folks!" snorted Grandmother. "You was thirty!"
"That ought to be old enough to set alone with a man for a spell, especially if he's a minister."
"I suppose you think," the old lady returned, swiftly gathering her ammunition for a final shot, "that the minister was minded to marry you. I've told you more 'n once that you're better off the way you are. Marriage ain't much. I've been through it and I know."