“I don’t see how he’s different from that Bittridge,” said Boyne. “He doesn’t care for anything; and he plays the banjo just like him.”
Mrs. Kenton was too troubled to laugh. She said, with finality, “Lottie can take care of herself,” and then she asked, “Boyne, do you know whom Ellen’s letters were from?”
“One was from Bessie Pearl—”
“Yes, she showed me that. But you don’t know who the other was from?”
“No; she didn’t tell me. You know how close Ellen is.”
“Yes,” the mother sighed, “she is very odd.”
Then she added, “Don’t you let her know that I asked you about her letters.”
“No,” said Boyne. His audience was apparently at an end, but he seemed still to have something on his mind. “Momma,” he began afresh.
“Well?” she answered, a little impatiently.
“Nothing. Only I got to thinking, Is a person able to control their—their fancies?”