She laughed. "Why, I thought everybody know'd what brash meant. Well, it's er—too quick to say somethin' you oughtn't to say."
"Well, then, I don't think you were 'brash.'"
"Thank you." She resumed her work, and after a time left off to inquire: "May I ask you somethin'?"
"Well, where you came from how long does it take anybody to—to fall—in love?"
Mrs. Mayfield blushed. "No longer than it does here, my dear. Sometimes here and everywhere love comes like death, in the twinkling of an eye. But why do you ask?"
Upon her bosom the girl pressed her hands. "Because lately there is somethin' here that tastes bitter an' sweet at the same time. You have told me somethin' about yo'se'f an' now I will tell you somethin'. I—I love Tom."
The woman arose. "Oh, but you mustn't tell it—you mustn't let him know it. He is wayward and I am afraid that he has innocently deceived you. He is hardly responsible—he says many things he doesn't mean. He—"
"And is he a liar, too?" the girl exclaimed, her eyes ablaze with anger.
"Oh, no, not that. But has he told you?"