Surely there was something wrong here. The display of luxuries, Martha’s unnaturally bright eyes, her compressed lips, the new black dress, her air of superiority.
“What’s the matter?” said Martha. “Pitch in. I’ve got a nice supper an’ dressed up to show you how smart I can be under afflictions.”
Enos took a mouthful.
“I—I guess Craddock didn’t come for the rent,” he essayed. “Never knew him to skip us before.”
“He come,” replied Martha, loftily.
“An’ you—” the man’s fork shook against his plate.
“Paid him, of course,” said Martha, airily. “You told me to attend to it.”
Her husband half rose from his seat. “You ain’t right, my dear,” he said, soothingly—“what’s affected you?”
“Set down!” commanded the woman, laughing. “We’ve found a friend, an’ our girl’s found a father. It’s all straight, Enos. In case you want a bit of spendin’ money, I’ve endorsed this over to you.”
Mr. Matchett did sit down. His countenance underwent many changes as he fingered the check. “Wh—what’s it for?” he stuttered.