"I'm not going to tell you any such thing," I said. "I wondered if you wouldn't come down and stay with Mrs. Bingy and me while you're here. We've got an extra cot."
She tossed her head. "You're laughing at me," she said.
"No," I said, "I want you. So would Mrs. Bingy."
When she understood, something seemed to go out of her. She shrank down in the chair, and that look of hers went away from her.
"I'd love to," she said. "Oh, Cossy—I thought when I got here things'd be different. But I've been here four days, and I ain't really had any fun here either!"
I told her to get her things ready, and when she went to tell her mother's aunt, with whom she was staying, her aunt came in and made us both have some supper first. The table was in the kitchen, and the aunt was cooking flap-jacks over the stove. Her husband was a tunnel man, and so was his son. There were two girls younger than Lena; one of them was ticket-seller in a motion-picture house, and one of them was "at home."
"Don't you work?" I said to her.
"Hessie's going to be married," said her mother, proud and final.
"Believe me, she'd better get a job instead," said Lena—and I saw the girl who was ticket-seller turn a puzzled face to her, but the bride-to-be laughed. I was glad that I was going to take Lena away from them. Whatever is to be learned by women, it seems to me that they should never have for teacher a bitter woman, however wise.