“Miss North,” said Gussie, rising “I will do it.”
“What, now?” faltered Mary North.
“Now,” said Mrs. Cyrus, firmly.
“Oh,” said Miss North, “I—I think I will go home. Gentlemen, when they are crossed, speak so—so earnestly.”
Gussie nodded. The joy of action and of combat entered suddenly into her little soul; she never looked less vulgar than at that moment. Cyrus had disappeared.
Mary North, white and trembling, hurried out. A wheezing strain from the harmonicon followed her into the May sunshine, then ended, abruptly;—Mrs. Price had begun! On her own door-step Miss North stopped and listened, holding her breath for an outburst.... It came. A roar of laughter. Then silence. Mary North stood, motionless, in her own parlor; her shawl, hanging from one elbow, trailed behind her; her other glove had split; her bonnet was blown back and over one ear; her heart was pounding in her throat. She was perfectly aware that she had done an unheard-of thing. “But,” she said, aloud, “I'd do it again. I'd do anything to protect her. But I hope I was polite?” Then she thought how courageous Mrs. Cyrus was. “She's as brave as a lion!” said Mary North. Yet had Miss North been able to stand at the Captain's door, she would have witnessed cowardice.
“Gussie, I wouldn't cry. Confound that female, coming over and stirring you up! Now don't, Gussie! Why, I never thought of—Gussie, I wouldn't cry—”
“I have worried almost to death. Pro-promise!”
“Oh, your granny was Mur—Gussie, my dear, now don't.”
“Dr. Lavendar said you'd always been so sensible; he said he didn't see how you could think of such a dreadful thing.”