But she wondered whether Henrietta had been right. What Henrietta had said so lightly, the night of the fire, had sunk deeper than Sally knew or than Henrietta had intended. Sally was beginning to think that Henrietta was right and that girls, down at the bottom of their hearts, were looking for men. She didn't like to confess it to herself. She shrank from the whole subject; but why shouldn't they—the girls—provided it is only at the bottom of their hearts? They did; some of them did, at any rate. It is doubtful whether Sally probed as deep as the bottom of her heart. Perhaps she was afraid to.
Yes, as I started out by saying, no doubt she was only tired,—beat out, as Miss Lambkin would have said; and she was lonelier than she had ever been. She missed Uncle John. It seemed to her that there was nobody to whom she could turn. Probably Captain Forsyth had had some such idea when he made his clumsy offer of advice. But Captain Forsyth would not do. Sally would have been glad enough of somebody to turn to. It was a peculiarly favorable time for Fox, if he had only known it. It was a rather favorable time for anybody; for Jane Spencer, or even for Everett Morton. For Everett had begun, as anybody could see with half an eye, as Letty Lambkin put it briskly. Altogether Sally's affairs had become a fit topic of conversation for people who bother themselves about other people's business.
Miss Lambkin did. She had tried to talk with Mrs. Sarjeant about the matter, but Mrs. Sarjeant had promptly shut her up. Whereupon Miss Lambkin, with her head in the air, had betaken herself to Mrs. Upjohn.
Mrs. Upjohn did not shut her up. She wanted to hear what Letty had to tell and she wished to contribute whatever she could, that Letty did not know, to the fund of general information; without seeming to, of course.
"Well, Alicia," Letty began, as soon as she had got into the house and before she had had time to remove her hat, "I thought I'd come and do for you now, even if it is a week before the time I set. Mrs. Sarjeant can wait awhile, I guess. She can't need me. She told me yesterday that she didn't care to listen to gossip. As if I gossiped, Alicia! Why, I was only saying that Sally Ladue and Everett seemed to be pretty thick now, and I shouldn't wonder if they hit it off. And I shouldn't, either, Mrs. Sarjeant or no Mrs. Sarjeant. Anybody can see he's paying her attention and she's letting him." Miss Lambkin shut her lips with a snap. "Now, isn't he?"
Mrs. Upjohn did not answer her directly. She only laughed comfortably and suggested that they go right up to the sewing-room.
"Patty made you quite a visit, didn't she?" Letty began again, while she hunted scissors and needles and a tape. "Did you have to send her off to Miss Miller's?"
Mrs. Upjohn shook her head.
"That's a good thing. It wouldn't have been pleasant," Miss Lambkin resumed. "I hear that she's feeling real bitter towards Sally and that Sally means to live somewhere else, whether Patty repairs the house or not, but Patty won't hear to it. I notice, though, that nothing's been done to the house yet. I'm told that Patty's going right at it. She'd better, if she wants to live there before next summer, for this is September and the builders are awful deliberate. Now that Doctor Sanderson doesn't let the grass grow under his feet. Did you know that his new hospital's going to be ready before cold weather? And he hasn't been here, himself, more 'n a day at a time. Where's that little cutting-table, Alicia? In your room? I'll just run in and get it. You sit still."
Mrs. Upjohn did not like to trust Letty alone in her room, for she had the eye of a hawk; but Letty was gone before she could prevent her. She was back in a moment, and Mrs. Upjohn breathed more freely.