Mrs. Nuddle flared at this. “Who said she went wrong?”
“You did!” Jake retorted with vigor. “Usedn’t you to keep me awake praying for her––hollerin’ at God to forgive her? Didn’t you, or did you?” No answer. “And you think this is her!” The ridiculousness of the fantasy smote him. “Say, you must ’a’ went plumb nutty! Bendin’ over that tub must ’a’ gave you a rush of brains to the head.”
He laughed uproariously till she wanted to kill him. She tried to take back what she had said:
“Don’t you set there tellin’ me I ever told you nothin’ mean about my pore little sister. She was as good a girl as ever lived, Mamise was.”
“You’re changin’ your tune now, ain’tcha? Because you think she looks like a grand dam in pants! And where dya get that Mamise stuff? What was her honestogawd name? Maryer? You’re tryin’ to swell her up a little, huh?”
“No, I ain’t. She was named Marie Louise after her gran’-maw, on’y as a baby she couldn’t say it right. She said ‘Mamise.’ That’s what she called her poor little self––Mamise. Seems like I can see her now, settin’ on the floor like Sister. And where is she now? O Gawd! whatever become of her, runnin’ off thataway––a little sixteen-year-ol’ chile, runnin’ off with a cheap thattical troupe, because her aunt smacked her.
“She never had no maw and no bringin’ up, and she was so pirty. She had all the beauty of the fambly, folks all said.”
“And that ain’t no lie,” said Jake, with characteristic gallantry. “There’s nothin’ but monopoly everywheres in the world. She got all the looks and I got you. I wonder who got her!”
Jake sighed as he studied the paper, ransacked it noisily for an article about her, but, finding none, looked at the date and growled: