"No," said Victoria, laughing and blushing a little.
"You'll make a good wife for somebody," said the woman. "I hope you'll get a good man."
"I hope so, too," said Victoria, blushing still deeper amidst the laughter, "but there doesn't seem to be much chance of it, and good men are very scarce."
"I guess you're right," said the mother, soberly. "Not but what my man's good enough, but he don't seem to get along, somehow. The farm's wore out, and the mortgage comes around so regular."
"Where do you live?" asked Victoria, suddenly growing serious.
"Fitch's place. 'Tain't very far from the Four Corners, on the Avalon road."
"And you are Mrs. Fitch?"
"Callate to be," said the mother. "If it ain't askin' too much, I'd like to know your name."
"I'm Victoria Flint. I live not very far from the Four Corners—that is, about eight miles. May I come over and see you sometime?"
Although Victoria said this very simply, the mother's eyes widened until one might almost have said they expressed a kind of terror.