“I can't think, dearie” murmured Mrs. Pennycook weakly. “I'm so shocked like. It's hard to believe. I know the girl for a sly, scheming, hoity-toity flirt, but to think that she'd act so low like! Who told you she kissed him?”
“Borax O'Rourke.”
“He told everybody.”
“Well, then, if it's got around, public like, we can't shield her, Miss Pickett, an' I guess it's no use trying. Water will seek its own level, Miss Pickett. You remember her mother. Nobody ever knew a thing about her, an' you remember the talk that used to be goin' around about her.”
“The tree grows as the twig is bent” Miss Pickett murmured.
“I'll say this much, though, Miss Pickett” continued Mrs. Pennycook. “You're a woman an' so'm I, an' you know, just as well as I do, that no man or set o' men ever looks twice at any respectable woman that goes right along tendin' to her business. You know that, Miss Pickett. A man's got to have some encouragement.”
“Well” Miss Pickett was forced to remark. “I've been postmistress an' assistant postmistress here for fifteen years, an' nobody's ever insulted me, or tried to flirt with me. I can take my oath on that.”
“I believe you, Miss Pickett” interrupted Harley P. Hennage serenely. “Even in a tough town like San Pasqual human courage has its limitations.”
Miss Pickett flew to the delivery window and looked out. Harley P. was looking in.
“Is that so!” sneered Miss Pickett.