“I think you’re mistaken,” he said, after a silence that puzzled and chilled her.
“She won’t join the Girls’ Branch of the Progressives, nor register. And she says if Hector Price is elected he will turn the student body into a kindergarten; at least that’s what Walter Buckman said she said.” She pumped out the words breathily.
“Any more slams on her?”
“Oh, Billy, I’m no tattler. It isn’t what they say; it’s the looks and sniggers that say more than words. No one would dare to tell me anything anyway; they know I’m your friend, Billy, your California friend.”
He caught the emotion in her voice, knew that in all the world he had not a more devoted friend, a more fearless champion than Bess Carter. “You’re to the good, Bess. I shall try to deserve your kindness.” He lifted his cap and passed on, leaving her troubled and mystified.
He found his mother busy over her window plants. After an anxious inquiry as to dinner, which settled the fact that he would have to wait ten minutes, he stood watching her in such an unusual silence that she noticed it and rallied him.
“What’s happening in Calcutta, Billy?”
“Not in Calcutta; right here. What are you killing all those little babies for?”
Mrs. Bennett straightened up and looked at him, startled. “It does seem almost like that, doesn’t it? But if I don’t pinch these buds the plants will be less thrifty, perhaps die.”
“Why?”